A Rose Trapped Inside a Fist
by dressagejet
Summary: An elleth who was forced to escape from all the adventures she had in Harad gets another chance at going on an adventure again. But first she must help a friend escape a life of violence. Eventual tenth walker and Legomance. Also OC/OC. Occasional book plot but mainly movie.
1. Just an Ordinary Bookworm

**A Rose Trapped Inside a Fist**

Disclaimer: I disclaim owning anything of the Lord of the Rings trilogy or The Hobbit. I only own my own characters brought forth from my own wild imagination (Narloth, Erebwen, Rhovan, Belegor, Tindir, Dagorast and Ashare).

This is my first Fanfic so reviews would be **greatly** appreciated! Please, please, please let me know what you think...otherwise I won't know and I'd like to improve my writing. Love it or hate it, let me know! Sorry it's short!

**Chapter One- Just an Ordinary Bookworm **

I've always suffered from a vague restlessness. A longing for an adventure that I have rationalized comes from reading too many adventure novels as a child. Regardless of reason, my thoughts had not changed, I still wanted my adventure and I was about to meet someone who could provide me with what I wanted...I just didn't know it yet.

I had awoken early, gone for a brisk run, and had stopped for a rest around one of Rivendell's many waterfalls when he had appeared before me.

"It's time," he had said.

No explanation or introduction, just 'it's time.' I had been half tempted to turn around and see if someone was behind me even though I'd heard no one approach. He was staring directly at me and I immediately thought this obnoxiously long-bearded man was strange. Not in a bad way but just a bit weird. He seemed familiar somehow but I couldn't place how.

"Time for what?" I questioned.

"For you to learn about the prophecy," he replied while motioning for me to follow him.

I had no clue who he was or what he was talking about but decided that although I didn't trust him and had no weapons, he was only an old man and I could take him if need be. (Oh, how wrong was I.)

I conceded and began following him as he led the way through Imladris.

We exchanged names along the way and I realized he was an Istari. There I was with no weapons and he had magic. Now I felt very safe.

We eventually arrived at the library of Imladris.

As we walked inside I took a deep breath through my nose, letting my favorite smell- books- fill my lungs.

"The prophecy is written here somewhere," Gandalf said, striding towards the nearest shelf.

"I don't mean to sound immodest but I've read almost everything here. I could help you find it quicker," I quipped.

"Your parents told me you liked to read," he said, smiling a little.

"How do you know my parents?" I asked.

"I met your father many years ago when he was still a guard of Rivendell. Naturally, after befriending Dagorast, I met your mother too. Even met you. Although that was many years ago when you were still in Ashare's arms."

I relaxed a bit. If he had known my parents he couldn't be half bad.

"Found it," he said, picking up a weathered piece of paper.

We sat down at a narrow table against the wall and he handed me the page of paper.

I had seen it lying around before but had never read it. The top of the page said my name and below it was what seemed to be a poem of some kind. It read:

Narloth,

Become the tenth

And lives you will save

An evil foe brings tragedy and death

A sacrifice is the only way

The one you love most, now lost

"What does it mean?" I asked.

"I'm not sure," Gandalf replied, his face wrinkling slightly as he thought.

"What made you tell me about this now then?" I questioned, surprised I hadn't read it before.

"Just a feeling," he said. " You should probably keep this from your parents for now."

"Not a problem. I don't have any…not anymore."

"They've sailed?" he asked with concern and curiosity.

"My father sailed but my mother was killed by Haradrim," I replied, moving my hands underneath the table so they didn't shake.

"I thought she made it back with you? That you were both okay?"

"She did and we were, but then Haradrim assassin's came. My father and mother hid me and then fought them but they managed to kill my mom. That's why my father sailed. His grief nearly took him."

"Forgive me. I didn't know," he said, sighing deeply.

"There's nothing to forgive. It was a long time ago and you aren't the one who killed her," I said, trying not to remember what had happened. After all this time it still hurt. I'd never see my Mother again and my Father had left me alone. I remember understanding his decision to sail, but I also found it a bit selfish that he'd left me alone when I was dealing with the same grief and some guilt that I was the reason she'd died.

"What about you? Are the Haradrim after you?"

I shake my head, " No my mother told them I had died on the trip back from Harad."

"Ashare was a wise woman," Gandalf said smiling a little.

I nod, agreeing with him. My mother had always been the one to give me advice and liked to read to me. She had made me into the bookworm I was today. She had been Haradrim for years, wise and battle-hardened. With visible tattoos, tan skin, dark hair and dark eyes, she'd been anything but ordinary looking to my father. He had passed no judgment on her appearance and they somehow became friends and then slowly they were no longer friends, but so much more than that.

When she became pregnant with me she wanted to allow me to see her heritage and begrudgingly my father accepted her request.

When I was able, I traveled with my mother to Harad. A place very different from Imladris and I loved it. I had loved the shouting and tattoos(I earned several of my own) and became proficient in hand to hand combat and horseback riding, often racing horses across the sand dunes. I had been very reckless and would stand in the face of danger without a thought. I nearly became almost fearless. This was noticed by some of the Haradrim and although I was young (for an elf) they had come to my mother proposing that I train as an assassin. My mother refused and we fled. Somewhere along the line she'd told them I was dead and after she'd died I was left with a grieving father who eventually left. Both of them gone. Leaving me alone with my grief, pain and guilt.

"So it seems like the prophecy is saying that I'll get to go on an adventure but will lose a loved one," I said, changing the subject before I could start crying.

"That's what it seems to imply, yes."

"I'm pretty sure that last part has already happened," I admitted, trying to keep myself together. I'd never cried in front of anyone before and I was not going to start now. I blinked my eyes rapidly and snatched up the paper, putting it back where it came from. I almost wanted to rip it apart. What was the point of going on an adventure if someone I loved would die as the outcome. And who would die? I had no family left.

"Perhaps," Gandalf muttered, but I could hear him and his voice was filled with doubt.

"How will I know when it's time for the prophecy to begin?"

"I'll be sure to keep you informed," he replied, standing and putting a comforting hand on my shoulder. He gave me no more answers, no more information, but my head was burning with a million questions.


	2. Adventure Skills

**A Rose Trapped Inside a Fist**

Disclaimer: I disclaim owning anything of the Lord of the Rings trilogy or The Hobbit. I only own my own characters brought forth from my own wild imagination (Narloth, Erebwen, Rhovan, Belegor, Tindir, Dagorast and Ashare).

I know this is super super short. Planning on making the chapters longer from here so bare with me! Don't forget to review!

**Chapter Two- Adventure Skills**

He had left and I'd gone about my business the rest of the day with every thought centered on the prophecy. I'd finally get my adventure but whose life would it cost?

I decided that regardless, I would need to learn some "adventure skills."

If an adventure really was in my forecast I wanted to be prepared. I was already proficient in hand to hand combat, although it had been years since I had even practiced. I had decided I need to learn some swordsmanship and my friend, Rhovan was meeting me to teach me what he knew. I myself, knew very little about it. Enough to defend myself against someone who didn't know much. So basically, I was clueless.

I spot Rhovan and jog towards him, waving.

He returns the gesture, smiling.

"Ready?" he asks.

"Ready," I reply.

I unsheathe my sword from my belt. It's plain and light weight but it's strong.

"That's a nice blade," Rhovan remarks.

"Thanks. It was my father's, he called it Firefrost."

"Well I hope Firefrost is ready for battle," he challenges, bringing his sword down in an arc that slices the air.

I swing Firefrost upward, quickly blocking his blow.

"Good," Rhovan compliments. "But your position is lacking. Always keep sideways to your attacker," he says, gently turning me. "That way your chest presents the smallest possible target."

"Noted," I reply.

"Okay, I want to see just how much you know. I need to find out your skill level."

"What do I need to do?"

"Give me all you've got; I'll simply block."

"But what if I hit you?"

"You are not going to hit me," he scoffs with a snort.

I bristle at his amused tone and say "I could hit you. Even master swordsman make mistakes. I could get a lucky shot, or you might not see me coming."

He looks at me patiently.

"I don't want to hurt you," I sheepishly tell him.

"How much experience do you have with a sword?"

I glance down at Firefrost. "A couple of minutes?"

"You're not going to hit me," he says, giving me a confident smirk.

I purse my lips at his comment and raise Firefrost, swinging it left and right, up and down. Rhovan blocks my swing every time. I swing harder and faster, remembering to keep sideways. Then I try to get the upper hand by moving around him but to no avail.

"Alright, stop," Rhovan says.

"Tired?" I scoff, hoping to wound his pride as he had mine.

"You're not terrible," he says, ignoring my comment. "but we have a lot of work to do. I think that's enough for today."

We sit down on the grass, catching our breath and relaxing. It's summer and a light breeze sifts its way through the trees that surround the practice field. I can hear the splash of the nearby waterfalls. I've often followed it to get to my friend, Erebwen's house.

"Have you seen Erebwen lately?" I ask, turning to look at him.

"No," he says, blushing.

I smile. Rhovan has had a crush on my friend since before I even knew him. He has never told her about his feelings for her and unfortunately Erebwen has been dating someone for almost a year now. His name is Morlyg and Rhovan and I have become suspicious of him because we occasionally spot bruises along Erebwen's arms. We confronted her about it and she had laughed, saying the bruises were from working on her family's farm. We didn't press the matter, hoping she was being honest. We were both quite worried that something was going on. Erebwen seemed quite secretive lately and I wondered what she was keeping from me.

"How about you? Have you seen her?" he asks.

"It's been a few days. Would you like to visit her with me?"

"Do you think he'll be there?" Rhovan asks, balling his hands into fists.

"I'm not sure. Hopefully not," I reply, punching him playfully in the shoulder to lighten his mood.

"Watch it. We haven't even gotten to hand to hand combat and I will bring you down," he says, smirking.

Now it's my turn to snort, even though he might be right.


	3. Tears of Truth

**A Rose Trapped Inside a Fist**

Disclaimer: I disclaim owning anything of the Lord of the Rings trilogy or The Hobbit. I only own my own characters brought forth from my own wild imagination (Narloth, Erebwen, Rhovan, Belegor, Tindir, Dagorast and Ashare).

**Chapter Three- Tears of Truth**

We arrive at Erebwen's and I scan the room for signs that Morlyg is around but I neither hear nor see any trace of him- good. Rhovan won't do anything rash and we can spend time with Erebwen alone.

"Anything to drink?" Erebwen asks.

We shake our heads.

"So did Nar's swordsmanship skills impress you?" she asks, turning towards Rhovan.

"She's not as hopeless of a cause as I expected," Rhovan teases.

I roll my eyes, making sure he sees.

"I'd say it went well then," Erebwen laughs.

"Rhovan's a good teacher," I say.

I turn towards him, catching him staring at Erebwen and he blushes.

"You okay?" Erebwen asks, noticing the change.

"F-Fine," he stammers, turning redder. The color even reaches his ears.

"So how have you been lately?" I ask her, saving Rhovan from his predicament.

"I've been well. Morlyg has been helping my parents harvest their crops and I've been helping them can preservatives."

"How nice of him," I acknowledge. I try to sound sincere but it doesn't come out that way.

"He's a great help," she replies with a smile.

I notice the smile reaches her mouth but not her eyes. I wish she'd tell me what was going on. I half regret bringing Rhovan, thinking she may have said something if it had been just me here.

I see him frowning out of the corner of my eye. He cares deeply for her and I can tell by how he often looks at her that he loves her. He always has.

We speak with Erebwen for awhile, laughing and telling jokes and stories. Rhovan of course mentioning the elaborate plan I had come up with when I was thirty to get my crush, Belegor, to notice me. It had not ended well and it was without a doubt my most embarrassing moment but now we all laugh about it. At times like this I make a mental note to bring up their embarrassing moments but I know neither of theirs tops mine…and they know it.

When we become hungry we eat lunch together. I take my time to enjoy the fresh fruit and bread. I've always been a slow eater, something I inherited from my Father. Rhovan and Erebwen finish before I do and go to the kitchen together.

**Rhovan's POV:**

I see her washing her plate and grab a nearby towel to dry it.

"Erebwen…you know that you can tell me anything, right?"

She looks me in the eye and I notice she's pulled the sleeves of her dress up to wash the dishes without getting them wet. She quickly realizes and pulls them down but not before I see the bruises. I notice that some of them look recent. I catch her hands and she looks up, her eyes betraying her. Whether she realizes it or not, she has told me everything I need to know. He's hurting her.

"I know," she replies quickly and looking at her feet.

"I'm here for you. You can call on me day or night. I'll be there."

She nods, sniffling a little, and returns to washing her plate.

I want to say more. I want to tell her about my feelings for her and that I love her but now is not the time and with everything she's going through, what she really needs is reassurance and comfort from her friends.

"Thanks for helping me clean up. Odd to find a man willing to help out in the kitchen, though." She pauses and then says, "you just wanted to question me, didn't you?"

"No, I don't mind helping. Do you find that so hard to believe?" I ask, wondering what Morlyg does other than beat her. I can't imagine hurting someone so gentle and kind. My heart beats faster as her grey eyes look up at me.

"Well…you're a man."

" You noticed that, did you," I reply, chuckling.

She smiles up at me, her grin wide and white. I wonder if Morylg has ever made her smile. That's really all I want from her, her smile and laughter. I want to make her the happiest woman in Middle Earth.

"Narloth is here for you as well, just so you know," I add, planting a light kiss on her forehead. Her hair smells like flowers and fruit. The preserves, I remember, smiling. I step back even though my desire to be closer to her is almost overwhelming. We stare at each other for a moment and I wonder if she wants the same thing as I do.

"We should get back," Erebwen says quickly.

"Of course," I reply. "Narloth could be choking on her food and we'd never know."

She laughs. It is my favorite sound in the world that laugh. Probably because it sounds so weird and makes me laugh with her.

"With as slow as Nar eats, she'd be the least likely person to do anything of the sort," Erebwen replies.

**Narloth's POV:**

They enter the room together and I can tell Erebwen seems different somehow. She looks happy, relieved. Rhovan must have said something. I glance at him and he winks. I chuckle and despite the fact that she isn't sad, give her a hug. I am sure she doesn't mind.

"Thank you," she mumbles in my ear.

I don't know what to say to her so I just nod.

The next day, Rhovan begins training me in hand to hand combat. He already knows I'm pretty good and I am excited to do something I've been trained to do before. As we practice, I find that although I'm not extremely strong and that it's been a while, I'm very quick and I'm exceptionally good at anticipating Rhovan's moves and his weak spots. I'm not sure if that's because I've known him forever or if I'm actually good at seeing my opponent's next move. I'm impressed with myself and continue to block and dodge his advances while trying to throw in some punches of my own.

Before we started practicing, Rhovan had instructed that we were not to hit each other, just block. I understand his caution but eventually I will need to know how to take a hit. I would need to experience a real fight to improve. With Rhovan this will be a touchy subject. I know he won't want to hurt me.

"You're actually really good," he remarks.

"You sound so surprised," I tease.

"I am," he admits. "You should incorporate this into your swordsmanship. Wait until you get better with your sword though."

"Alright."

We practice a little longer and then we sit down in the lush grass. Rhovan tells me what happened with Erebwen in her kitchen and I frown.

"Are you sure?" I ask seriously. We need to be positive.

"Yes," he replies.

"I don't know. I think we need more proof. Any ideas?"

"Why are you asking me? You're the one who always has a plan."

"I do not al-"

"Do I really need to bring up the time when you were thirty and you really like what's-his-name…Belegor, so you decided to-"

"Okay, okay," I interrupt before he goes any further. "Give me a minute to think of something."

I go through different scenarios but they all involve Erebwen eventually leaving Morlyg. For good. If she's not willing to leave, she'll keep going back and nothing will change. She has to make the choice. I voice these thoughts to Rhovan and he becomes very quiet, deep in thought.

"She needs to be shown that she deserves better," he says after a moment. "I need to tell her about my feelings."

I think about what he says but I'm unsure if that will change anything. Rhovan is certainly a better person than Morlyg but I'm not sure if Erebwen has any feelings for Rhovan. I'm not about to voice that to him though, it would destroy him.

"Morlyg will come after you Rhovan," I say.

"I can take him," he says confidently.

"He'll come after Erebwen too."

"I'll protect her."

"You can't be by her side every second."

"Well we have to do something," he says, getting frustrated, and pacing back and forth.

"Do you think her parents know? I don't want to go behind her back but maybe they'll forbid her to see him."

"Or we could tell Lord Elrond, maybe."

"Or we could just kill him."

I say it jokingly but I realize that in our anger both of us are considering the thought.

"I don't know," Rhovan sighs. "Let's take a night to think about it."

I nod in agreement.

Later, when I crawl into bed I feel like my body is on fire. I came up with several plans to help Erebwen but I don't feel any will work. I can't concentrate on anything but my anger. Morlyg is hitting my friend. The friend I grew up with and have known forever is being beaten.

I shake my head and try to fall asleep. I toss and turn all night.


	4. A Guilty Predator

**A Rose Trapped Inside a Fist**

Disclaimer: I disclaim owning anything of the Lord of the Rings trilogy or The Hobbit. I only own my own characters brought forth from my own wild imagination (Narloth, Erebwen, Rhovan, Belegor, Tindir, Dagorast and Ashare).

I'd really like some reviews! Like it? Hate it? Like or hate the characters? Even if you just give a short review consisting of one word, I'd like to hear your thoughts! I'm hearing a lot of crickets! :)

**Chapter Four- A Guilty Predator**

I wake up and head to our practice area. I'm early and Rhovan won't meet me for another few minutes so I stretch my muscles and warm up. I close my eyes, drinking in the peace of the birds chirping and singing, relishing the feel of the wind on my tanned skin and the light of the sun's first rays hitting my face. I take a deep breath and slowly open my eyes. Then I see him.

A hulking mass of muscle- Morlyg. He is headed east. Towards Erebwen's home.

His dark hair shines and his gait is long and quick.

I suddenly feel my resolve leaving me and feel my blood begin to boil. And then I'm running, racing towards his bulky form with my only thoughts on how I can hurt him.

He sees me coming, turning to face me but does not expect my fist landing squarely on his jaw. My brain, trying to remain logical tells me that one punch is enough but my adrenaline and anger have taken hold of me.

I take in Morlyg's stance, noticing that in his surprise he has left everything but his face, defenseless. I take advantage of this and bring my knee into his stomach, receiving a grunt from my opponent. I raise my arm, swinging towards his face again but this time Morlyg is prepared and he blocks my blow. His surprise has left and now he is livid. He raises his own fist and I block my face but he isn't aiming for my face. I realize this too late and his own fist collides with my stomach sending me backwards into the air. I land, sprawled out against the ground and quickly pull myself up, despite the lack of air I'm receiving after his punch.

Morlyg steps toward me, smiling and I kick my foot into his inner thigh near his knee cap. He gasps in pain, taking a couple of steps back to regain his footing. I charge forward and the heel of my fist hits his nose. In return his arm connects with my cheek, making it sting and turn red. Heat rushes to my brain in another surge of anger.

I hear someone running towards us, probably to stop the fight and I muster all my remaining strength into my next swing, a right hook that smashes into Morlyg's face and he's out.

He collides with the ground and I gather my breath, turning around, wondering who saw the fight. I'm probably going to get in trouble but right now I don't care.

I find Rhovan, staring at me in shock. I wait for him to yell at me but he doesn't seem angry at all. In fact, he seems almost proud.

"Is he out?" he asks.

I nod, trying to reign in the anger I'm still feeling.

Rhovan takes a step towards me and lifts my chin, his eyes taking in the damage.

If I thought I was mad, the look on Rhovan's face made my own pale in comparison. His eyes are sharp as a dagger and then he blinks and his face is suddenly soft, as though his anger has left him. His eyes seem to glaze over and they become unreadable.

"Are you okay?' he asks.

"You should see the other guy," I say with a grin.

Rhovan grimaces a little and I realize my mouth is bleeding. My smile fades but I'm still proud of my victory.

He looks towards Morlyg and laughs. "He definitely got the worst of it."

He then looks back at me with pride. "Nice Job."

At that moment it dawns on me just how much he enjoys instructing me. I am his student and have successfully defeated an opponent more than twice my size and he is proud of me.

"Thanks. It felt good."

"I bet," he replies. "We can talk to him when he wakes up. Then he'll be receiving a punch or two from myself."

"But I already fought him," I say in confusion.

"Yes, you did, but now he has hurt both you and Erebwen," he says in anger. "Besides he needs a shiner on the left eye to match his right one."

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise at his response as his voice takes on a dangerous tone and I smile. We are probably enjoying this moment too much and in the back of my mind I'm starting to feel some guilt. I shove the thoughts away. I want answers.

"Remind me to never make you angry," I say.

"I could say the same to you."

A groan disrupts over conversation as Morlyg slowly comes to.

Rhovan passes me a glance and we pull him up against a tree into a standing position.

"Why have you been hurting Erebwen?" Rhovan asks.

He is calm, which surprises me and his voice has taken on an authoritative tone. He is several inches taller and he stares down at Morlyg, his eyes never wavering and waits for an answer.

Morlyg looks up but seems confused for a moment, rubbing his head back and forth with his hand.

"She told you?" he says nonchalantly. "She never could keep her mouth shut."

His tone his uncaring and I want to punch him again. How could he possible talk about my friend in this manner?

"She didn't have to. The bruises made it obvious. You just couldn't keep your fists by your sides, could you?" he retorts back.

He is still the epitome of calm, which would thoroughly impress me if not for the current situation. I know him well enough to know that underneath his exterior he is full of wrath and rage. Somehow he is managing to keep it hidden.

Usually, I'm the one who is good with hiding emotions, although I've never been good at hiding anger. It always seems to get the best of me.

"What do you want?" Morlyg seethes, ignoring Rhovan's insult.

"I want you to leave her and never see her again," Rhovan says, anger beginning to creep into his voice. His calm exterior is fading now, melting with every word. "Don't touch her, don't look at her, don't even think of her."

"And if I don't?" Morlyg taunts.

Rhovan's fist, quick as lightning smacks into his left eye, giving the shiner he promised.

Morlyg slumps against the tree.

"If you don't, this is what happens. And for every bruise you leave on her, I'll repay you tenfold. We clear?"

Morlyg nods, his confidence gone.

Between the two of us, we've beat him up rather badly. We watch as he scuttles off and we both sit down on the grass, quiet and pondering everything that has happened.

"Well, I guess you've already got your practice in today," Rhovan says, breaking the silence.

I remain quiet but nod my head to acknowledge that I've heard him.

The realization that I just attacked someone and hurt them begins to hit me full force. My anger has receded and guilt has taken its place. My parents would not be proud of me. Well, actually my Mother probably would be. Her Haradrim upbringing always brought out her fighting nature. I suppose she may have passed the trait on to me but I still feel a little guilty for attacking him.

Morlyg has attacked and hurt Erebwen; I have attacked and hurt Morlyg. How am I any better than he is?

"Do you think Erebwen will be mad?" Rhovan asks, breaking me from my thoughts.

I stare at him. I hadn't thought about that. I'd only thought of protecting her and revenge, it had never crossed my mind that she might not be happy about it. Would she be mad that I'd done so?

"I don't know," I answer.

"Maybe we should tell her?" he replies. "Better to hear things from us than Morlyg. He'd probably twist the tale and turn it on us."

I nod in agreement and stand up.

"You're awfully quiet," Rhovan remarks, looking at me with concern.

"We're no better than Morlyg after what we…what I just did to him."

Rhovan points to my cheek.

"He hurt you Narloth and he's been hurting Erebwen for who knows how long. We had cause to do what we did. I agree that we shouldn't have taken it so far but maybe it will help get the message across. We helped Erebwen."

I nod again, trying to believe him but I still feel guilty and I hope that if Erebwen is angry, that she will forgive me.

"Come on," I say. "Let's go see Erebwen."


	5. Breaking the Chains

**A Rose Trapped Inside a Fist**

Disclaimer: I disclaim owning anything of the Lord of the Rings trilogy or The Hobbit. I only own my own characters brought forth from my own wild imagination (Narloth, Erebwen, Rhovan, Dagorast, Belegor, Tindir, and Ashare).

**Chapter 5- Breaking the Chains**

As we head towards Erebwen's house we are both silent, deep in thought about what Morlyg has said and what Erebwen will think.

When we reach her front door I take a deep breath and knock. I almost hope she's not home but then I hear her footsteps inside and she opens the door. She instantly notices the bruise on my cheek.

"Come in, I'll get some medicine," she says, ushering us inside.

I'm about to protest, to tell her I'm fine but as I move my mouth to speak my cheek stings in pain. I move my hand over it and can tell it's swollen. I probably look terrible.

I sit on the couch and Erebwen puts some kind of herb paste on my face. It feels better almost instantly. That's the kind of care you get when your best friend is a healer. A grim thought enters my mind as I realize that she probably puts the same paste on her own bruises.

"Thank you," I say.

She nods and then asks, "What happened?"

I am about to speak when Rhovan saves me the trouble.

"Morlyg punched her-"

"What?" Erebwen says, shocked. "Why would he punch her?"

"Because I punched him first," I reply sheepishly.

She looks at me in surprise. This is probably one of the last things she would expect me to do. It's not like me to go after someone. Although, being in a situation where my friend is being hurt and having some influence over the one hurting them has never occurred in my life until now.

"I know he's hitting you Erebwen," I confess softly.

She looks down at her hands.

"When I saw him I got so angry that I walked towards him and punched him. We fought and I ended up knocking him out and then Rhovan showed up."

She glances at Rhovan and he explains the rest of the story. She listens without interruption but then she explodes.

"I can't believe you would…how dare you-" she yells.

She is glaring at me. Not Rhovan. Me. I try to think of something to say but I can't think of anything and an apology is not something I'm going to give. I may regret not speaking to Morlyg before acting on my anger but in the end I don't regret a single punch- not if it helped her.

"Get out," she says, seething.

"W-what?" I manage to get out in my surprise.

"Get out. Now." She repeats, straining to stay calm.

Heat rises to my cheeks and I get up, walking towards the door.

"Thanks for the medicine," I say softly as I step over the threshold.

I walk alone down the road hoping Rhovan can get through to her and that I haven't ruined my relationship with my best friend. Tears begin to build behind my eyes but I take control of myself before any of them get the chance to fall. I will not cry I tell myself and walk quicker, trying to escape the threat of tears and to put more distance between myself and Erebwen's house.

I find myself unable to stop thinking about how long Erebwen and I have been friends. I remember how she had comforted me when my Mother died and how she had made me stay at her house for a week after my Father had left because she didn't want me to be alone. She had been there for me and I had been there for her in her troubles. We always had each other.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath and when I open them I find that I have wandered to the practice field. I probably shouldn't be here in case Morlyg is around but my bet is that he's somewhere nursing his wounds and has left.

I reach towards my belt and remove Firefrost from its sheath. Might as well practice and blow off some steam since I'm here.

I swing to the left and a cry escapes my lips. I gasp, wincing and clutching my ribs. Morlyg punched me there, I remember.

I lift up the tunic I'm wearing and see a bruise that covers a third of my ribcage. The blacks, blues, and purples discoloring one of my tattoos, a plain sword pointing downwards towards my hip. I had gotten it when I began swordsmanship there but had only learned a couple of moves before we had had to flee.

I pull my shirt back down and anger rages within me and I swing my sword like crazy.

I am angry at Morlyg for abusing Erebwen, angry at myself for confronting Morlyg with punches rather than words, angry at Erebwen for being mad, angry at my Father for leaving me, angry at my Mother for dying, angry at Gandalf for telling me a prophecy full of riddles and leaving with no answers, anger and sadness that everyone always leaves. Always.

By choice, by ship or by death, everyone always leaves.

The tears come before I can stop them and the more I try to hold them back, the more I can't stop them. So I relent and let them fall.

I crouch down leaning against a nearby tree and try to relax. Crying won't help anything I remind myself. After a few moments I have cried the last of my tears and feel better. Crying is funny that way. It won't fix any of your problems but it makes you feel better. I shake my head and stand back up.

My cheek stings again and I decide to head home.

My neighbors glance in my direction as I pass, probably staring at my bruised face. I ignore them and once inside my house I shimmy out of my clothes, change into a nightgown and use the rest of my energy to pull myself into bed.

**Rhovan's POV:**

I watch Narloth leave and turn to face Erebwen, to tell her I'm sorry we took it so far, that we care for her and were just trying to help, but nothing comes out. I am speechless and don't know what to say to calm her down. I look down, studying my hands which have become incredibly fascinating all of a sudden and begin to decide if I should wait for her to speak or if I should leave her alone with her thoughts.

When I dare to look back up she is crying, her tears so silent that I hadn't noticed. I stand up and she falls into my arms. I look down at her in surprise and try to soothe her, rubbing and patting her back. She sobs into my shirt, her hands balled into fists, clasping my tunic.

"Shhh,"I say. "We'll get through this."

After a moment her crying stops and her blue eyes look into mine, shimmering.

I tuck a loose strand of her dark hair behind her ear.

"I won't let him hurt you anymore. You have nothing to worry about," I tell her.

She looks at me and coldness creeps into her eyes so fast that I almost step away from her in trepidation.

"No, but he does," she says darkly.

I look at her in confusion. Pondering the sudden change in her attitude.

"He's not getting away with this. It ends…tonight. It's over."

My heart skips a beat. If she truly leaves him she'll finally be safe. But why now I wonder.

"Where is this coming from? Why now?" I ask.

"Because he hurt Nar," she replies.

"But you were mad at her. You told her to leave."

"My anger was misplaced. I didn't mean to take it out on her. I got so angry when I saw that he'd hurt her,"she says. "This is all my fault."

"No, it's n-"

"Yes it is. If I had left him before, if I hadn't been with him then none of this would have happened. He hit her and it's all because I've put myself in this ridiculous situation. Now you're all involved and getting hurt. I won't let him get away with this," she says in anger. "I don't want others getting hurt because I'm too cowardly to defend myself."

"Don't feel guilty or ashamed,," I reply. "None of this is your fault. You've been dealing with Morlyg for almost a year. I can't imagine what kind of courage that took."

She gives me a grateful half-smile.

"It wasn't always like that," she says. "He was kind and I was very happy. He never seemed happy though so I did everything I could to make things better, to make him smile. It was never enough and he began to say unkind things and he started to drink. Then one day I made him angry, I don't even remember what I did but I remember the sting on my face when he hit me. After that it never stopped and I threatened to tell someone, to leave him, but he quit hitting my face and only hit me where people wouldn't notice and he told me if I left him that he would kill those I'm closest to."

I listen to her story and I can't imagine living it. Being scared and abused everyday and being helpless because her loved ones are being threatened.

"Oh no," Erebwen says, her hand over her mouth and her eyes wide with fear. "He'll kill them. Rhovan, my parents are in trouble and Narloth too. After everything that happened today he'll be out for blood."

"You'd really think he'd try?" I ask her. I can't see him being that brazen but she knows him far better than I do.

"I don't want to find out," she replies, heading towards the door.

I follow her outside and she heads towards a bay horse tied to a hitching post.

"You have to get Narloth. Tell her I'm sorry," Erebwen says. "I'll head towards my parents and make sure they're safe. Narloth and I can stay there tonight. You too if you'd like."

She hands me the reins of her horse and I swing up onto his back.

"You'll get to her quicker if you ride."

I nod. If Morlyg were to go after anyone it'd be Narloth…or Erebwen.

"Let me drop you off at your parent's house. Morlyg may be headed this way," I say before she runs off.

"But Nar-"

"Narloth can defend herself. She's beaten him once already and she can do it again."

"That was hand to hand combat…if he goes after her again it will be with the sword," she says nervously.

I don't reply and pull her up onto the gelding, hoping Narloth will be okay.

**Narloth's POV:**

I awake to the sound of a knock on my door and slowly get out of bed, still groggy with sleep. The sun is starting to set and my "nap" lasted longer than I'd wanted it to.

As I pass my mirror, I notice that my face has swollen even more and has turned black and blue. I grimace at the sight of myself and move towards the door.

The knocks have become urgent and I wonder and hope it might be Erebwen. I look through the peep hole to see who it is but with the setting sun I only see their silhouette and can't make out who it is.

Said person loses all patience and bursts through the door.

I fall backward, landing on my side. The side with the bruise(go figure). I wince and stand up quickly, ready to defend myself against the mystery intruder.

The intruder comes closer and I see him smirking. I'd know that smirk anywhere.

"What makes you think you can just burst through my front door? I know we're friends but-"

"Are we?" He says, still smirking. " You look like you're about to knock me out."

I look at him confused and he points towards my hands. They're raised, ready for a fight.

"I think you can put those away now," he laughs.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, crossing my arms.

"Long story," he replies.

"We're immortal. I'm sure we've got time," I say.

"I'll explain on the ride to Erebwen's parents," he says pointing to Erebwen's horse standing outside.

I sigh and instead of interrogating him with more questions I decide to just go with it and quickly gather what I need into a pack and follow him back outside.

He explains everything as we travel through town and when we arrive I don't bother knocking.

I'm so happy that Erebwen has forgiven me and I race inside, pulling her into a hug and we both laugh, her parents shaking their heads at us, smiling. They have watched the two of us grow up and have always been kind to me.

Rhovan steps inside and clasps shoulders with Erebwen's Father. Her mother pulls Rhovan into a hug and Rhovan chuckles, a bit embarrassed but glad for the warm welcome.

Erebwen must have mentioned him to them.

"You've told your parents?" I ask.

"Yes," she confirms. "They know everything now."

Rhovan makes his way over to us and he puts a hand on Erebwen's shoulder.

"I'm okay," Erebwen says before he can ask.

He nods and we all sit down and snack on some lembas. Erebwen's parents head to bed and we are left to ourselves.

"Now what?" I say.

"It's his move," Erebwen replies.

We nod and eventually we've all fallen asleep, safe and sound.

Sometime in the night I wake to the sound of someone crying.

Erebwen is quietly sobbing, her hands covering her face. When she sees that I'm awake, she wipes her face. I sit up and grasp her hand.

"You've got nothing to worry about. It'll be okay."

She nods, sniffling.

"Remember when we were kids and we decided we were no longer friends and that we hated each other?"

I smile.

"Yes," I reply. "We both crossed our arms and turned away from each other but we both kept glancing behind to see if the other would change their mind."

"And then we made eye contact and started laughing and giggling," Erebwen says, chuckling.

"We made such a ruckus that your parents came in to see what was going on," I add.

She nods and says, "we always were a bit silly."

"You two still are, waking me up with all your giggling," Rhovan says from a nearby couch.

I stick my leg out and push him off. He falls, his body making a thud as he hit's the ground. He tosses his pillow at me in response.

"Shhhhhh," Erebwen whispers, trying to contain her laughter. "I don't want to wake my parents up."

Rhovan mumbles something unintelligent, grabs his pillow and falls back asleep on the couch.

"I'm going to stay at my house, not here tomorrow," she says. "I won't let him keep me holed up here at my parents."

"I'll stay with you," I reply.

"Rhovan's going to stay with me."

I give her a questioning sideways glance. Things weren't possibly moving that fast.

Erebwen rolls her eyes.

"Relax. My Father asked him if he'd stay for a night or two to protect me. He's going to talk to Lord Elrond tomorrow about Morlyg and won't be here. My Mother's going to stay with me too."

Erebwen's Father is one of Rivendell's guards. I hope that after he speaks to Lord Elrond that Morlyg will be arrested or exiled. Something needs to happen.

"Are you comfortable with Rhovan staying with you?" I ask.

She glances at him and thinks about it for a moment.

"I think I don't know him as well as you do but I know you trust him and I trust your judgment on his character. He's been nothing but kind to me and I'm not going to let my opinion on men be ruined by my relationship with Morlyg."

"Good!" I say, proud of her.

She blushes and I hope she gets to know Rhovan over the next few days. Hopefully, he will get the courage to tell her his feelings now.

The next day Erebwen's Father leaves to speak with Lord Elrond and Rhovan helps her mother pack and move her things for her stay.

Erebwen and I go to her house and she gives me more medicine to put on my bruises. They are already healing and will be gone completely by tomorrow.

I watch Erebwen sift through her mail. She comes across a letter and after reading it she chokes out a weird yelp.

"Are you alright?" I ask, concerned.

She doesn't answer and hands me the letter.

It's from Morlyg and he has threatened her family if she refuses to marry him. I want to tear it in half and set the pieces on fire but hand it back to her. I can't believe he's asked her to marry him in a letter- or at all for that matter.

"What do we do?" she asks. Her eyes are wide and desperate with fear.

"Let's see what happens after your father speaks with Lord Elrond."

She nods, breathing deeply, and seems to relax a little.

"Hey," I say, looking at her seriously. "You're safe. There's no way I'm letting him hurt my best friend."

She smiles and says, "you've already proved that. I bet he's scared of you.""Maybe," I say. "I feel bad about not talking to him before I started punching him. Rhovan said it might have made the message of leaving you alone more clear."

"Apparently not," she says, looking at the letter.

There's a moment of silence and then she smirks at me and rips the paper in half.

"Feel better?" I ask, grinning.

"Much," she says.


	6. Divided

A Rose Trapped Inside a Fist

Disclaimer: I disclaim owning anything of the Lord of the Rings trilogy or The Hobbit. I only own my own characters brought forth from my own wild imagination (Narloth, Erebwen, Rhovan, Dagorast, Belegor, Tindir, Morlyg and Ashare).

This is my first Fanfic so reviews would be greatly appreciated! Let me know what you think!

Once again, sorry about the wait on this. I know it's not long, sorry. Hope my readers are all doing well and Happy Christmas!

_**Chapter 6- Divided **_

The days had passed by so quickly and everything was beginning to change.

Morlyg, banished for life from Imladris by Lord Elrond, was finally gone. He had packed his things and left, a sullen look on his bruised face and his hair in a disheveled mess. It seemed odd that this was the man I had beaten and knocked out. He seemed smaller somehow, with his shoulders hunched forward and uncertainty clouding his expression. Finally understanding the consequences of his actions, regret was the only thing to be seen in his dull blue eyes.

I almost felt bad for him but I suppose any pity had left my heart the day he laid a finger on my best friend.

Erebwen, having her home back to herself was enjoying her new found freedom and independence with Rhovan ever by her side. She was regaining her confidence and naturally cheerful nature, although the pain could still be seen in her eyes and body language.

Nevertheless, the pair had grown close and were now well acquainted. They had become friends rather quickly and often flirted with each other. I watched the two, hoping that Erebwen wouldn't lead Rhovan on. I knew she wasn't ready to be in another relationship yet.

Rhovan knew this as well but it never stopped his flirtatious advances. His indications would have been completely normal to someone who hadn't gone through the abuse Erebwen had but with her it was pivotal that he take things slow to build her trust and confidence. He had hid his emotions from her for far too long and now they were far too difficult to hold back.

Occasionally, he would glance my way, silently asking if he was coming on too strong and I would nod slightly or give some indication that he was indeed starting to cross the line, at which point he would immediately back off.

As for me, my swordsmanship had improved immensely but with Rhovan and Erebwen together much of the time it had become difficult to find anyone to spar with. It was an odd feeling but I had become the third wheel.

I spent time practicing alone for several weeks without a partner and was in desperate need of a mentor. On that note, I had resolved to practicing archery but it deemed useless. I was still terrible and my aim proved worse the more I practiced. It was strange that the sport my elven kin were almost perfect at was something that I could not myself be at least proficient in.

An idea finally came to me one night: that I should ask someone in the guard to mentor me. Unfortunately, there were only three elves I knew in the guard. The first two, Glorfindel and Erebwen's father, are far too busy to give me lessons but Belegor, my crush from the past when I was young is a possible option. My only option in fact.

Why the idea of having a guard train me never entered my mind escapes me. Probably because I'm far more comfortable around Rhovan and those I know well, especially when weapons are involved.

As mortifying as it was to confront my previous crush who I had embarrassed myself in front of more times than I cared to admit I had no choice but to swallow my pride and ask.

And so I began walking towards the practice field, my emotions mixed and unclear. Half of me wanted to find him and the other half wanted to just turn around and go home. I glance at my surroundings, hoping to distract myself.

The trees are changing color, their leaves turning red, yellow, and orange. They hadn't started to fall just yet and the grass was still lush and green. Everything was so colorful and full of life. Squirrels scampered up and down the trees, their tails waving around, and jumping from branch to branch. Horses could be heard nickering at the stables nearby and as I got closer to the practice field the twang of arrows and the clash of metal began to drown everything out.

Once I arrive I glance around, looking for Belegor and finally spot him to my left observing his fellow guardsmen practice. I begin to walk towards him, skirting around those sparing. A couple of them glance my way but say nothing. When I reach him he is shouting out advice and commands to others. I wait to speak, not wanting to interrupt and hoping I'm not bothering him.

"I was wondering if you would mentor me in swordsmanship and archery," I ask when he looks my way.

He looks at me curiously for a moment.

"What happened to Rhovan training you?"

"He's…preoccupied," I reply, remembering that many of the guardsmen have been practicing at the same time Rhovan and I have.

"If I say yes, you need to realize that there will be boundaries. I don't know if you still have feelings for me or not but I'm married now. I have-"

"No," I say, interrupting him.

I can't believe he thinks that's why I'm asking him to train me. Did I really come off that crazy and foolish when I was young?

"I'm not flirting with you," I say. "I lost my feelings for you a very long time ago. My training is very serious to me but I don't have anyone to train me. That is the only reason I asked you."

"I don't go easy on you. I don't go easy on anyone I train. If you're really serious about learning I won't treat you any differently than when I train future guardsmen. You will leave with sore muscles, bruises and scars. You will be pushed to limit and sometimes past it," he says seriously. "I will not go easy on you," he repeats with emphasis on the words will and not.

"I don't want you to," I reply just as serious.

He looks me in the eye, staring me down and I'm not sure if he's giving me a chance to change my mind or if he's trying to scare me off. Either way, it's not working and I stare right back at him.

"What happened to the little girl who used to follow me around in frilly dresses and always had her hair in braids?"

I glare at him. Why did this matter? I just wanted to improve my skills. But then I realize that he's only seen the side of me that constantly tried to be pretty enough for him. At that time it was the only reason I'd worn dresses, did my hair, and tried to learn how to sing and dance. It was all to impress him. I've never liked wearing dresses or singing and dancing. All I wanted when I was a kid were books but Belegor has no idea who I really am. The only side he's ever seen is the side I pretended to be.

After being rejected and publicly humiliated by him I had vowed to never change myself for anyone ever again.

"She grew up," I say.

He looks at me a little shocked, surprised by my answer.

Finally, he crosses his arms and says, "be here at dawn tomorrow. If you're late we don't practice. No excuses. And bring money. I don't do charity."

"Fine," I say.

I turn to leave and let out a deep breath, glad our conversation is over. I hear him yelling again as I make my way back into the forest, wondering if I'll be the one getting yelled at tomorrow.

I detour towards the stables and decide to go for a ride.

Once there I lead, Harnen, my dapple grey mare out of her stall and begin brushing her.

I've made the mistake of not riding her for a couple of weeks and her energy is through the roof.

While I'm in the mood for a relaxing trail ride she has other ideas, jigging about and asking permission to speed things up.

After a few moments of her relentlessly asking to have her fun, I give in and were off. She takes off at a gallop, jumping over any obstacle in her way.

I laugh, relishing the freedom and wonder what tomorrow will hold.


	7. A Gentleman's Smirk

**A Rose Trapped Inside a Fist**

Disclaimer: I disclaim owning anything of the Lord of the Rings trilogy or The Hobbit. I only own my own characters brought forth from my own wild imagination (Narloth, Erebwen, Rhovan, Belegor, Tindir, Dagorast and Ashare).

Hope all my readers had a fabulous New Years! Enjoy the chapter!

**Chapter 7- A Gentleman's Smirk**

I stare at his straight, dark hair, his bright green eyes.

He's handsome, I realize(again). He has been so kind and patient but I am afraid. Afraid he could be like Morlyg. I shake my head. Rhovan is nothing like him and Narloth has known Rhovan for a long time. Even if I don't completely trust him, I trust her.

It seems that no matter what I do, the conflicting thoughts wage their war in my mind.

I see him walking towards me and my heart flutters. I cannot deny that I like him. But am I really ready to delve into another relationship? I decide that I don't know the answer to that yet.

He sits down, right next to me and before he can say anything, I blurt it out.

"I need some time alone."

He looks at me in surprise and then hurt flashes in his eyes. He thinks he's done something wrong.

"You've done nothing wrong," I tell him. "My mind is in turmoil right now and I can't seem to think straight. I need time to think, to sort things out. I know you like me and I'm beginning to like you too. It's just moving so fast for me."

I stop speaking and look at him. He's smiling, a big grin on his face.

"I understand," he says. "Narloth keeps telling me to slow down, that it's not a race. It's difficult though, I've liked you for so long."

I smile, my heart hammering at his words. I need to change the subject before I go into cardiac arrest.

"What is our dear friend up to anyway? Seems like an age since I've seen her. Oh, you don't think she's angry do you? We've probably been making her feel left out."

"You're right," he says, shaking his head. "I haven't been helping her practice. I'm surprised she hasn't asked me to help her."

"Probably didn't want to intrude on us getting to know each other," I say.

"She is something else," Rhovan says, smirking.

I giggle and realize how much I miss her. Then I see that smirk of his and I can barely think.

"Lady Erebwen, I shall take my leave," he says, bowing dramatically and wearing the same smirk.

"I will send word to you soon, my lord," I reply, just as dramatically. I love how silly he is. He makes me laugh so much and I'm glad he understands and isn't mad at me for wanting some space. Morlyg would have reacted very differently.

He laughs and before I can change my mind, I run towards him and kiss him on the cheek. Before he can react, I'm gone and in another part of my house.

After a few moments I hear him leave and I let out a deep breath I didn't know I'd been holding.

I watch him go from a nearby window and if I didn't know better, I'd say he was almost skipping. I turn around and do what any normal girl would after telling a man that you like him- I jump up and down and know I have to tell Nar.

I drag myself out of bed and walk to the practice field. I arrive early, before dawn. I sit down on the grass and relax. I try to envision what will happen today but I'm clueless and nothing comes to mind. I have no idea what will transpire today.

Belegor is very different from Rhovan both in personality and his training methods, which could end up being a good thing…or it could be bad. I have a feeling that either way it's going to be rough.

"Are you going to sit there all day or are we going to practice?"

The voice jolts me out of my thoughts and I turn to see Belegor standing behind me.

He turns and begins to sprint down a nearby path. I stand and follow him, easily catching up. If he plans on starting the day with a run I have an easy task ahead of me. I'm a good runner and always have been. My Father used to tease me, saying that if I was ever being chased I'd be out of sight so quickly they'd think I was a ghost.

We continue running for a long time at a brisk pace and he never says a word.

Eventually, we've circled around and are near the practice field again. Belegor makes a beeline for the field and I follow.

He unsheathes his blade and I do the same. His sword is ornate and fine with designs. When he sees plain Firefrost he scoffs and is unimpressed. Apparently, he's much wealthier than I am.

In this moment, I wonder what I ever saw in him. It makes me realize how much I've changed and how much he hasn't.

Just wait until the swords start swinging, a fancy blade won't help you, I think to myself.

"Your posture is good," he remarks, circling me. "I've seen you practice with Rhovan. Your hand to hand combat skills are exceptional and I know from watching you that you've begun to incorporate it into your swordsmanship. Many swordsmen never learn a lot of hand to hand combat, which gives you an advantage. However, your swordsmanship is lacking. In fact, it's terrible."

I look at him in surprise. Rhovan had told me I was getting better, I thought I was doing well.

"I've only been practicing for a few months," I say in defense.

"Yes, and for only having practiced that long you're not horrendous but an orc could cut you down easily at your current level."

"Well, I guess that's why I'm here," I say.

He scowls at me and almost before I can react, he is swinging his sword mercilessly. He hacks and slashes in a manner I've never seen before. This isn't how he normally spars. His movements are jarring, harsh and unharmonious.

He relents after several more swings.

"THAT is how an orc fights. Their blows are strong and powerful. They can be quite quick too. Occasionally, they make the mistake of leaving parts of themselves unguarded which is where your hand to hand combat will prove useful. We have a lot of work to do. You're quick but it takes too long for you to recover from a strong swing."

I nod, thankful he's stopped. His movements were so foreign from what I was used to and were difficult to anticipate.

"Now we're going to fight normally, like what you're used to. I'll be able to assess your level better and we'll go from there."

We spar like normal, like elves- swift and fluid, graceful and deadly. I can tell he's going easy on me and I'm glad because I can barely keep up.

"I'm disappointed," he says. "Sadly, your sword only exhibits fear. When you attack, you fear killing. When you counter, it's because you fear being killed. And I sense that if you were protecting someone, you'd fear letting them die."

I try to contain my annoyance but I'm sure it's evident on my facial features. I'm not sure why he's expecting me to be perfect at something I just started.

"At this point," he continues. "the only thing your sword speaks is senseless fright. Nothing will come of your fear. When you counter, you don't let them cut you. When you protect someone, you don't let them die. And when you attack, you kill."

I want to attack **_you_** right now, I think to myself. But I know he has a point. There's a lot of room for improvement and I was going to have to work very hard.

"How good are you with a bow," he asks.

"Worse than laughable," I reply, grimacing.

His mouth twitches and I think I almost made him smile.

"It can't be that bad. Show that target what you've got," he says, pointing to a target several hundred feet away.

I balk, knowing that I couldn't hit the target even if I were thirty feet away. Lucky for others on the practice field that they're no where near the target.

As I grab my bow and knock an arrow, Belegor immediately steps in, showing me the fastest way to load an arrow.

Once that's sorted, he's scolding me on my position and posture.

"Did you and Rhovan ever practice this," he says, incredulously.

"No, and if we had he probably would have given up."

"Just aim for the target and try to hit it," he says.

I pull my arm back and aim. When I release, my arrow flies straight and true, right into the ground, near the target. Well, at least my arrow made it that far, I'm actually impressed I did that well.

He instructs me to move closer. And closer. And closer.

In the end, I'm no better than when we started.

"Alright, stop, please," he says, as though the sight of such horrible skill pains him.

He pauses a moment, thinking, then shakes his head.

"I think that's it for today. I need to come up with a plan to improve your archery and I'm going to have to get creative. Really creative."

"Okay," I reply, glad to be done. "How much do I owe you?"

He names a price and I realize that while I can pay him for today's lesson, I can't afford lessons two or three times a week like I'd hoped. I voice these concerns after paying him and he frowns.

He's silent for awhile, thinking.

"I have a son, about ten years old. It'd really help my wife and I if someone watched him a couple days a week. Would that be alright?"

It's certainly not what I expected or what I wanted to do but I accept his offer.

He explains that Tindir, his son will need to be watched twice a week and that I can begin two days from now, after our next practice.

I gather my things, thank him, and head home.

When I arrive, I find a letter on my doorstep from Erebwen. It reads:

I really need someone to talk to. I'm having a lot of conflicting thoughts right now. I also have some exciting news! Spend the night at my place?

-Erebwen

I smile and immediately begin packing my things, wondering what's happened.

When I finish packing, I set my bag near the door and at that precise moment someone knocks on said door.

I open it and there stands Rhovan, smiling and giddy. Here we go, I think to myself. What's happened?

"Hello there," I say, smiling.

He laughs and says,"hheeeeyyy."

I look at him sternly.

"Are you drunk?"

"No," he says, seriously. "Why would you think that?"

"You're acting funny," I reply.

He starts smiling again and laughs, "Erebwen likes me, told me today."

"Really? That's great!"

"I know," he says, still smiling.

He looks down and notices my packed bag.

"Going somewhere?"

"Erebwen invited me to spend the night."

His smile grows wider, "you're going to stay up all night and talk about me, aren't you?"

I give him a wink and say, "don't flatter yourself."

He gives me a puzzled look and asks what my wink meant.

I roll my eyes and shake my head.

"Yes, Rhovan, we're probably going to talk about you."

He nearly jumps up at my confirmation and I'm reminded why I don't read romance novels.

"You are the silliest person I know," I tell him, smiling.

"I'm also one of the rudest," he says, suddenly serious.

I look at him questioningly, I don't know where this is coming from.

"I'm really sorry for not practicing with you," he explains.

Now things were about to get awkward. I hadn't told anyone about practicing with Belegor and I hoped Rhovan wouldn't get mad.

"About that," I say. "I just began practicing, paying for lessons, with a guardsman."

"Oh," he says, taken aback. "Who?"

"Don't laugh, okay?"

"Okay." he says.

"I'm practicing with Belegor."

He laughs. And it's a hysterical, hardly able to breath kind of laugh. It escapes from his mouth, amid snorts and other odd noises.

Before long, I join in, laughing more at his reaction than anything else.

"And how'd that go," he asks, still laughing.

"Not terrible. Although, I think he almost fainted at how horrendous my archery skills are."

"That's a lost cause," he says, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," I say.

"It's alright, there wasn't much left that I could teach you," he admits. "In fact, I've been thinking of becoming a guardsman."

"Really?"

He nods and says, " I've been talking to Erebwen's Father about it."

"Well, it'd be nice knowing that I'm not the only one going through the torture. Let me know what you decide!"

"I will," he says.

He gives me hug and says, "have fun tonight."

I nod and watch him leave. Then, after making sure I have everything, I head to Erebwen's, wondering what kind of crazy things we'll talk about and if she's as giddy as Rhovan.


	8. A Need to Kill

**A Rose Trapped Inside a Fist**

Disclaimer: I disclaim owning anything of the Lord of the Rings trilogy or The Hobbit. I only own my own characters brought forth from my own wild imagination (Narloth, Erebwen, Rhovan, Morlyg, Belegor, Tindir, Dagorast and Ashare).

**Chapter 8- A Time to Kill**

When I arrive at Erebwen's she folds me into a hug and starts delving into what happened between her and Rhovan.

"The only problem is that I'm so scared," she says. "After being with Morlyg I feel so confused. I know I like him but I just get so nervous."

"Are you sure your nervous because of what happened with Morlyg or could it be that Rhovan makes you nervous simply because you like him?"

"Both," she says after thinking about it. "I know Rhovan would never hurt me but I feel like everything is happening so fast."

"Did you tell him how you felt?"

"Yes," she says with a sigh. "I probably shouldn't have kissed him after telling him I needed things to slow down and to be alone."

"So you regret kissing him?"

"No," she says grinning.

I laugh and she asks me what I've been up to. I tell her about practicing with Belegor and how I'm supposed to look after Tindir tomorrow.

She keeps a straight face for a long time but her laughter isn't contained for long and I roll my eyes with a smile.

"Sorry, sorry. I know that's got to be awkward," she says, clearing her throat.

"Not as much as I thought it might be. Although, caring for his son is certainly not what I expected."

"Why don't you just join Rivendell's guard? It won't cost you money and you'll get the experience you need."

I look down at my feet. I'd thought of joining before but there's a problem. I'd have to kill and that was something I didn't want to do.

"I could, but then I'd have to kill," I explain.

"Why learn swordsmanship if you aren't going to use it?"

I had hoped to only use it for defense but after her words, I see it's a fool's fantasy. I would most likely have to kill orcs more than once if the prophecy came true. The haunting words of the prophecy have been a dark cloud hanging over me ever since Gandalf told me about it. I hadn't even been back to the library for fear of reading that piece of paper again. It seemed like forever since Gandalf had been here and he hadn't left me with much to go on. Maybe he was wrong? Perhaps I never would get out of Imladris again. The thought sends a pang to my chest and despite Gandalf telling me to keep things quiet I choose to ignore his advice.

"I'm going to tell you a secret and you can't tell anyone, alright? Not even Rhovan."

She looks at me seriously and nods. I tell her everything and I feel the heaviness on my shoulders lift.

"And you don't know who you'll lose?" she asks.

I shake my head.

"I really think you should join the guard then. If you're not prepared, you'll get hurt. You should get as much experience as possible."

I nod my head in agreement.

"Maybe I'll join with Rhovan."

"I bet he'd like the company and hopefully my father would train you both, instead of Belegor."

"That would certainly be preferable," I laugh.

"There's a moment of silence and then Erebwen smiles a little.

"What?" I ask.

"You're going to fall in love!"

"What?" I repeat. "Why do you say that?"

"The prophecy," she exclaims. "It says you'll lose someone you love."

"What's the point if they're going to die?"

She looks at me in shock and tosses a nearby pillow into my face.

"What was that for?" I ask, laughing.

"You'll never find someone with that attitude."

"I like being alone remember? Besides, only the deepest love will persuade me into matrimony. And the prophecy never says who I lose. It could be-"

I stop short. It could be Erebwen I lose, or Rhovan. I don't have family here anymore but I still have friends. I look up at Erebwen. She's deep in thought.

"It can't be," I say, trying to reassure both her and myself. "It won't be."

"I have a feeling it will be one of the companions on your journey," she says, looking up at me. "I mean, no offense, but I'm not going. I'm a healer not a fighter," she says, laughing.

She's so sure it won't be her but I'm not so sure.

"I hope you're right. I couldn't make it without you and Rhovan."

The sound of thunder cracks overhead and dark clouds engulf the sky. Lightning strikes in relentless flashes of light and hot, red plumes of flames and smoke rise from the ground. The flames grow and begin to surround me and I dash forward trying to escape. A glint of silvery black metal catches my eye and for the first time in my life terror grips me and I cannot move, cannot scream, paralyzed by fear. The dark metal clad figure strides towards me and finally adrenaline kicks in and I run, my legs moving faster than I thought possible.

When my eyes open I'm gasping for breath. My body is shaking and I feel like I'm on fire. Erebwen stares down at me, worry clouding her eyes.

"What's wrong," she asks. "Are you alright?"

I search my surroundings. The figure and the fire have vanished. I relax, but only a little.

"I saw him," I say.

"Who?"

"…Sauron."

She probably thinks I'm crazy but I know what I saw.

"Alright, it's just a dream. You're safe," she says. "Sauron was defeated, remember? He's never coming back."

I nod but it had seemed so vivid and real. It hadn't felt like a dream.

Erebwen falls back asleep after making sure I'm calm and but sleep evades me and for once I'm happy it does. I don't want to see Sauron again.

Questions begin to plague my mind. Did the dream have something to do with the prophecy? Why had it seemed so real? Was it real? Was Sauron really defeated or had he somehow managed to come back? If he had, how? And why was he in my dream? Why me?

I decide to go for a walk to try and shake things off. I leave a note for Erebwen in case she wakes up and silently creep outside.

The Fall air is crisp and chilly. Patches of fog swirl around and even with my elven eyes, I can't see far. I continue walking, letting my feet guide me and end up at the practice field. I look down at my feet.

"Why do you always lead me here?" I ask them with a little laugh.

This is the first time I've ever heard the practice field so silent. I hear an occasional neigh from the nearby stables but no other sound can be heard. I sit down, my back against a nearby tree and try to relax. Before I even realize it, I fall asleep.

I see it again. The flames, the dark clouds, the lightning, and I see him. He stares at me calmly out of his metal helmet. I tell myself this isn't possible, that I'll wake up soon and it will be another dream but I smell the stench of smoke and sulfur and the heat of the flames makes my skin tingle. This is too real, too vivid to be a dream.

"What do you want," I ask when I find my voice.

He doesn't reply and continues to stare me down. I do the same, taking in his figure. He is muscular, tall and impressive. He's also unarmed- not that he'd need to be to take me out.

It's just a dream; he can't hurt you in a dream.

I see him smile and he begins to speak, his very voice making me want to crawl in a hole and hide.

"Where are you? Are you home? Are you safe…or somewhere you think is safe?"

I don't answer and try to will myself to wake up. I do not need to be here and I certainly don't want to be here.

"Do you think your invincible?" he continues. "That no one can find you, no one can get to you? Think again. I can."

I stare up at him in fear and he laughs.

My eyes shoot open. My entire body is trembling and I'm panting for air. My skin feels hot and I close my eyes, trying to slow my breathing. I can still feel the heat on my skin and stench of smoke in my nose.

How is it possible for him to be in my dream? It's happened twice now and I don't think it's a coincidence. I may never sleep again. I can't get his image, his smile out of mind.

I open my eyes again and look at the field. It's gotten foggier and as I stand to go back to Erebwen's something makes me hesitate.

Something is wrong. Something is watching me. I take in my surroundings but I can't see much with the fog.

I try to calm myself thinking, it's probably just an animal or elves patrolling the area but the presence I sense is evil. My ears and eyes strain for any sign of movement but all is silent. And then I hear it, a low growl coming from up ahead.

I know what the creature is without having even seen one. It's a warg, which means that orcs are nearby too.

My mind calculates my options in mere seconds. If I run the warg will outrun me and I'll be dead. I could fight but I've forgotten to bring Firefrost with me- dead. I could rub dirt and leaves on my body in hopes it will disguise my smell but they'll most likely hear me- dead. Or I can climb a nearby tree and wait it out- ?

I make my decision and begin climbing the nearest tree. I perch myself on a branch I hope will be high enough. Wargs can't jump high, can they?

Once there, I realize I can see over the fog and I look across to where I heard the growl. As soon as I see them I want to run in fear.

There are not one, not two, not even five, but ten wargs with riders headed this way. Towards me, towards Imladris. I search the area, looking for other elves but see no one. How did they manage to cross the border with no one seeing them?

They silently make their approach and I take a good look at what I'm up against. Ten wargs and ten orcs. Luckily, most of the orcs are armed with swords which means they'll have to get close to hurt me. Those with bows don't have them out- probably because they wouldn't be able to see their target with all the fog. Fog or no fog, I'm in a lot of trouble.

Despite my fear I know I have to warn the others. I have to warn Imladris. I stand and hope that I can make my woodland kin proud because I've never done what I'm about to do.

I begin to jump and swing from branch to branch still worried I'll be heard. However, my elven movements are silent and once out of the forest I have no choice but to run on foot. Not a good idea but I have to warn everyone.

Once I land on the ground I'm moving faster than ever before. Adrenaline propels me forward and I begin to hear the heavy footfalls of the wargs behind me. They are chasing me now.

I consider making my way to the stables to get Harnen; I'd have a better chance of escaping on horseback but it would take too long.

I can hear the snarls of the wargs now and my heart beat pounds out of control. I sprint faster and I see the bell tower. The bell watch is supposed to ring the bell when there's trouble to alert the guards. It hasn't been used in years. There's been no need to. That peace has been broken tonight.

The wargs are almost on my heels and I still have quite a ways to run. I'm losing ground and I'm going to have to make a choice. A choice that will either save my life or end it.

I shake in fear even as I'm running and wait. Just wait until they're a little closer, I tell myself. Wait. Yes! Right. There.

And then I make my move, swerving to the left. The warg behind me does the same and like I had hoped, slams his fellow comrade, along with himself, into a nearby tree. Out of my peripheral vision I see several more wargs, unable to stop, crash into the two that have already fallen. I haven't taken them out but I've bought myself a few more seconds.

The other wargs continue their chase and when I'm in earshot of the bell tower I start yelling. There's supposed to be a bell watchman at all times and I hope they're able to hear me.

For what seems like an eternity all is silent and dread fills me. And then I hear it- a shrill ringing. The alarm has sounded.

Within moments elves are running towards me, arrows flying. I'm really glad they have better skill than I in archery right now as several arrows fly mere inches from my face.

I run through the line of elves, glad for the safety and with no intention of stopping but an arm grabs me around the waist and stops me. I struggle to break free and the arm releases me. I turn and find Belegor behind me.

He points down the road and says "go home. Now." There's authority in his voice but I'm not going home.

I don't give him a reply and continue to jog away from the battle, making my way back to Erebwen's where I find her still asleep. She looks so peaceful and I laugh a little as I close the door and slump against it.

She awakens and looks me over in alarm. Before she can ask I fill her in and tell her I'm alright. I leave out my dream though because I don't want to worry her. I'm starting to think that those wargs were sent by Sauron and that they were for me.

"I think you're right," I say with a sigh.

"About what?"

"Joining the guard."

She nods solemnly, "I know you don't want to kill but I don't think you're going to have a choice."

A few hours later I make my way to the practice field. Belegor is already there and when I arrive he looks at me sternly.

"What were you doing?" he asks blatantly.

I wasn't in the mood for an interrogation but I knew he'd have questions.

"I was just taking a walk," I reply.

"A walk? At two in the morning?" he says doubtfully.

Why is he so suspicious? He doesn't think I let the wargs in, does he?

"I've been stressed out lately and yes, I went for a walk at two in the morning. I couldn't sleep," I leave certain things out of my answer. I'm not about to tell him my nightmares or about the prophecy.

"How'd you manage to get away from them? The bell watch said you were on foot. They should have killed you."

I explain how I'd jumped from tree to tree and when there wasn't enough forest left I'd run of foot and zigzagged once they got close, causing them to knock into each other.

Once he realizes I'm telling the truth he looks at me in total surprise.

"Smart move," he says.

We stand in silence a moment and then he says, "let's practice."

Within seconds I realize that although I almost died a few hours ago, he's not about to go easy on me- If anything he's pushing me harder. We've been practicing for several hours now and it's beginning to take its toll.

"Watch my sword, not my face," he yells. "I'm going to stab you, not bite you."

I shake my head. I'm still stressed out from everything that has happened and I'm finding it hard to concentrate.

I watch his sword as he swings it and try to keep an eye on his feet too as we skirt around each other. My arm begins to get tired but Belegor doesn't relent. I try to keep up with his swings but he's getting faster and stronger with every stroke.

I continue to block but as he swings again I'm not strong enough and his blade cuts into my skin. It's not deep but there's a lot of blood. My tunic starts soaking it up and I look at him in disbelief.

He smiles a little and says, "are you going to do something or stand there and bleed?"

I look at him in shock and somehow anger provides me with the strength I need. I knew coming into this that I'd get hurt but that smug smile of his pushes me over the edge.

And then I whirl on him, swinging quickly with all my might.

After a few moments my rage has left me and Belegor says, "that's enough."

I stop swinging but leave my sword up in case he comes after me. I'm beginning to learn that I can't trust him if he has a weapon in his hand.

"Let's move on to archery. I have an idea."

I inwardly groan even though I'm curious about what's in store. My arm feels shaky and lifeless after sparing and now it's going to be drawing back the string of a bow.

"What's your idea," I ask, grabbing my bow and knocking an arrow.

"I want you to get mad."

I give him a look. What is he thinking?

"You haven't caught on yet, have you?" he says. "When you get mad you think more clearly when fighting. You get stronger and faster. With most people, the opposite happens. They lose their concentration and everything falls apart. Earlier, when we were fighting you were doing well but you were tired and starting to slack off."

"So you decided to cut me and make me angry," I finish for him.

"Lucky for you- you survived," he says. "If that had been an orc and you got tired do you really think they'd stop or slow down? They'd finish you without a thought. In moments like that you have to call upon every ounce of strength you have and hope it's enough. Battles require a lot of endurance."

I think about what he's said and nod. If anger helps me fight perhaps I should use it to my advantage.

"Now, I want you to show that target what you're made of. It has evaded every one of your arrows. You make sure that ends today."

I nod and concentrate on my aim. I find myself suddenly angry. How long have I tried and missed? How many times have I practiced and gotten nowhere?

I let lose my arrow and find it has hit it's target. Bullseye.

I jump up and down and forget all about Belegor being there. When I look towards him he's actually trying not to laugh.

"Well done. Now do it again and don't you dare miss."

I continue and manage to hit the target every time; it's still rare that I hit the middle but at least my arrows aren't flying into the ground anymore.

When I'm out of arrows he says we're done for the day.

Before he can leave I ask him about joining the guard.

"You want to join?" he asks, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"I think I need to."

"I think the guard would be happy to have you but why would you need to?"

"After what happened today, I need to learn as much as I can…and I need to learn to kill."

He looks at me in surprise again- I'm getting that a lot lately.

"Why would you want to learn to kill?" he asks.

"I don't want to but when those wargs and orcs were after me, if I'd had to defend myself I'm not sure I would've been able to kill them even if it meant I'd die."

"Why not?"

"I'd feel guilty."

"But they're orcs," he says, confused.

"It's still a life," I reply.

He looks at me in deep thought for a moment and then nods.

"I'll speak with Lord Elrond and the other guards tomorrow," he says, contemplating what I've said. "Are you still going to watch Tindir?"

"Yes," I say.

"I think you'll like him," he says with pride. "He likes to read."

"How do you know I like reading?" I ask.

"Every time I've gone to the library you've been there with your nose buried in a book."

I laugh and he continues saying, "even when we were kids and you liked me, if you were reading a book, you never noticed me."

"Did I hurt your feelings?" I ask, teasing him.

"No," he says, smiling. Then he becomes serious and says, "I have a feeling I hurt yours though. I'm sorry- always have been."

I look at him in shock. Is he actually being nice? I can't believe what he's telling me.

"I forgave you a long time ago," I say. "I've been embarrassed about my actions for a long time but what happened taught me a lesson."

"You were embarrassed?" he says in disbelief. "You did nothing wrong by telling me how you felt, even if it was in front of everyone. That was one of the most courageous things I've ever seen someone do. I shouldn't have rejected you so harshly."

"It made me grow up. I changed into someone better."

"This has always been you though, hasn't it?" he says, pointing to my sword and my attire.

"Not exactly," I reply. "But the girl that followed you around in dresses was just trying to impress you."

He smiles. "I like this version better," he says.

"Me too," I reply. "So when do I need to watch Tindir today?"

He looks up at the sun, checking the time.

"Now, if that's alright?"

I nod and follow him to his house. I shake my head, thinking of the conversation we just had. I never thought I'd get an apology. Maybe Belegor wasn't such a pompous jerk.

When we reach his house, I feel some butterflies about meeting his wife. Is this awkward for her too? Those feelings leave me almost as soon as I enter the house. She folds me into a hug, ignoring the dirt, leaves, and blood on my clothes. She thanks me more than once for watching Tindir and shows me where the supplies are to clean my wound.

They introduce me to Tindir and Belegor's right, I already like him. He's reading, completely undisturbed by the fact that his parents are leaving him with me, a stranger. I share a look with Belegor and he smiles.

They kiss him goodbye and leave and after quickly dressing my wound I sit down next to him. He immediately passes me a book.

"Read?" he says.

I smile and nod. I can see the excitement in his eyes at my answer. He's handed me a book about swords. One that I haven't read before- shocking, I know. I really like this kid.

I open the book and he starts flipping through the pages so I can start reading. Apparently, I'm moving too slow.

I begin reading the book, which has drawings of swords, and tells about their owners, their defeats, their victories- their stories. After a few pages I come across a sword that looks exactly like Firefrost. I look at it closely but it's definitely Firefrost. The page reads:

**Naurniss- The Sword of Gwindor**

Gwindor, wielder of Naurniss, is credited with beginning the Nirnaeth Arnoediad after witnessing a party of orcs brutally murdering his brother, Gelmir. The orcs had blinded him proceeded to dismember him before killing him in front of the elvish host.

Lost in grief and wrath, Gwindor charged against them with the company of Nargothrand. It is said that Morgoth shook in fear as he approached. Gwindor was ultimately captured and was enslaved for seventeen years. He eventually escaped and was rescued from the wilderness and his despair by Beleg Strongbow and later helped Beleg save Turin Turambar. When Beleg died Gwindor helped Turin.

Gwindor fell in love with Finduilas, but broke their engagement when he found he was unfit to wed her.

In the last battle of Nargothrand he was mortally wounded and died.

It is believed that his sword, Naurniss, had magical powers, though none know what they were. It is also believed that Naurniss was plain, lightweight, and warm to the touch of it's wielder but had the cold sting of ice for the necks of its wielder's enemies.

I finish reading and I'm dumbfounded. Naurniss translates to Firefrost and has always been oddly warm in my hand. Now I know why it's called Firefrost but what I don't know is how I managed to become its wielder. Why would I have a famous sword and why hadn't my father told me its history when he gave it to me?

"Keep reading," Tindir says impatiently, breaking me out of my thoughts.

I smile and continue but nothing holds my interest after what I've found out.

**Hope you guys are well and that you've enjoyed the chapter! The story about Gwindor is all true except for Naurniss, that I made up. I don't think it says the type of weapon he uses or anything. Anyway, I chose him randomly and went with it. Also I know Turin doesn't have the little pronunciation thing. Sorry, I don't know how to do that so just pretend it's there! :) Thanks for reading. I know it's slow getting to Frodo and the ring but it should happen pretty soon!**


	9. It's All in the Blood

A Rose Trapped Inside a Fist

Disclaimer: I disclaim owning anything of the Lord of the Rings trilogy or The Hobbit. I only own my own characters brought forth from my own wild imagination (Narloth, Erebwen, Rhovan, Morlyg, Belegor, Tindir, Dagorast and Ashare).

Chapter 9- It's All in the Blood

After What I'd read about Firefrost, I head to the library to see if I can find more information. I scour through scrolls, books, and the like but find nothing. I purposefully steer clear of the shelf where the prophecy is located. I know I'm being a little childish- trying to ignore what is says won't make it less likely to happen, but I don't care. I never want to hear or see those words again.

An hour passes and after searching every shelf I've found nothing. I gather my things but before I can leave a dark haired elf blocks my path to the exit. I look up at him and he stares back, his eyes dark and unreadable.

"Hello, Lindir," I say.

He nods in reply and says, "Lord Elrond has summoned you."

After the incident with the wargs, this doesn't surprise me. The elves of Imladris have begun to act strangely around me, whispering as I passed them and giving me suspicious glances. Many had assumed that I'd let the wargs in and some had even accused me of being a spy because of my Haradrim bloodline. I had ignored their glances and gossip but being a ruler, Lord Elrond had not and dutifully could not.

I follow Lindir, silently pondering whether I'll be able to join the guard if Lord Elrond distrusts me or thinks I'm lying about what happened with the wargs. What if I'm exiled? Where would I go?

I push those thoughts away; if I'm nervous when I appear before him it could lead to him thinking I'm being dihonest. And since I'm not, I have no reason to be nervous.

I've spoken with Lord Elrond twice before and I was very young, still considered a child. Our conversations had been very short and consisted only of small talk and greetings.

My Father, being one of his former guards, had known him well and said he was a kind ruler. I hoped, for my sake, that was true.

When we reach the doors of the throne room I feel unprepared. My clothes are clean but I'm not wearing a dress. I stifle a laugh, remembering what my Mother, who also disliked dresses, used to say. "The day I dress for another person, is the day I go to meet my creator."

The thought of my Mother calms me and I feel my nerves ebb away a little.

When the doors open, I follow Lindir inside. Lord Elrond is seated on his throne and I'm taken aback by Belegor standing beside him. Is this about the wargs or joining the guard?

I stop when Lindir does and watch as he bows and then moves to stand next to Belegor.

"I hear you were chased by wargs recently," Lord Elrond says. His eyes are stern and observational, taking everything in- the kind of eyes nothing can hide from.

"Yes, my Lord," I answer. I look him straight in the eye. To look away would be a sign of dishonesty.

"Why were they in Imladris?" he asks.

"I didn't let them in, if that's what you're wondering."

His eyebrows raise a little. "My guards say they never saw them enter our borders. How do you suppose they got in?"

I look down at my feet and blink hard. He doesn't believe me…and I doubt he'll believe the truth. I lie would probably sound less ridiculous.

"Answer the question," he demands.

I nod in defeat and look back up at him. "I didn't let them in but I will tell you everything I did that night."

I glance at Belegor. The thought of him finding out about my nightmares is humiliating but I'd rather suffer embarrassment than be banished from my home. I explain both of nightmares, my walk, the fog, everything. I don't mention the prophecy though. That's my information and mine only. After my nightmares it didn't seem wise to tell anyone. The less others knew, the better.

When I finish, Lord Elrond is calm but his eyes are swimming with turmoil and realization as if he's just figured something out.

"Is this the first time you've seen Sauron in your dreams?"

"Yes," I reply, surprised he isn't discrediting them.

He remains still and quiet for a long while, deep in thought.

"And you aren't allied with the Haradrim?" he asks.

"No," I answer. "I am loyal only to you, your household, and Imladris."

I may be coursing with the blood of the Haradrim but I would never be loyal to them. They were hard and as unforgiving as the desert land they dwelled in. After witnessing their harsh cruelty, my mother had left them and had only returned to show me my heritage. Luckily, she had been such a renowned warrior that they'd allowed her to return. Normally, they would have killed her. It caught up to her eventually but I know she never regretted allowing me a glimpse at our culture, our way of life.

Most have understood why she left but many have had issues understanding why she returned, taking me with her. Contrary to many beliefs, not all of us were so coarse or barbaric. Poverty had simply caused certain kindnesses to be forgotten. There was fighting between most of the tribes on everything from food to land but within each clan there was also community. We stood up for one another and when we fought, we fought together. I remember thinking of it as a wolf pack.

Imladris was different. Everything was peaceful and plentiful. There was no fighting between our race. Everyone got along with one another and only fought evil.

Lord Elrond looks at me keenly and says, "We will find where your loyalties lie soon enough."

My eyes widen. I don't have to go through some kind of test, do I?

"How do you mean?" I ask, trying to hide the nerves that are making their way back into my mind.

"I only take those loyal to Imladris to become guards," he replies.

I look at him in disbelief. He believes me? I'm not banished?

"May I speak freely?" I ask.

He nods and I say, "with all due respect, how do you believe me? I can barely believe it myself, even after its already happened."

"I know more about you than you may think," he says. "And when you've lived as long as I, it becomes easier to decipher a lie from the truth. As for becoming a guard, Belegor speaks highly of you and says you show promise."

I glance over at Belegor and he smiles sheepishly. His kindness is going to give me whiplash.

"He has explained that your archery needs improvement," Lord Elrond continues. "but if your training is successfully completed you may return and speak your oath."

"It would be an honor," I say, beaming proudly. I can't believe he's being so generous and trusting. I find it hard to believe that he knows anything about me though. How could he?

"One more thing," he says. "That piece of paper you've been avoiding in the library, its words will come to pass sooner than you think."

My mouth drops in shock. "How did you-"

"I suggest you train hard," he says sternly. "That is all."

I bow and make my way out of the room. How did he know? Did Gandalf say something? Or did he just happen to read the paper?

As I'm leaving to head to the practice field, I spot someone familiar.

"Hello, Rhovan."

"Narloth," he replies, grinning. "What brings you here?"

"Long story, I'll explain later," I say. "How about yourself?"

"I came to speak with Lord Elrond about becoming a guard."

"That's partly why I'm here," I admit. "I bet they'd love to have you!"

"I hope so," he replies.

After I've wished him luck and said goodbye I practice my archery.

"I think you're getting the hang of it," Belegor says, from behind me.

"Finally," I reply. "Thanks for getting creative with me…and for putting in a kind word for me back there."

"No problem," he says.

"When does training start?" I ask.

"Right now," he replies.

I laugh a little and he draws his sword. I set my bow and quiver against a nearby tree and unsheathe Firefrost.

The sun glints off the metal in a blinding flash of light and in that moment the blade does look magical. What powers do you possess I wonder?

We practice for hours, each minute more difficult and tiresome than the last. My arms are screaming but I ignore the burn in my muscles and continue.

When I think I can go no longer another elf joins Blegor and they're both taking swings at me. It's hardly fair, but it is realistic. Orcs wouldn't play fair.

Neither did the Haradrim I remember. One of the female elders had told me that our tribe didn't practice fairness because the world wasn't fair.

"If you expect the world to be fair with you because you are fair, you're fooling yourself. That's like expecting the lion not to eat you because you wouldn't eat him," she'd said.

Those words had woken me up and made me face reality in times when things weren't going my way and were falling apart, that I had to fight harder. Which is what I do now.

Two against one? I'd had worse. In Harad, I'd fought against four, sometimes five, in hand to hand combat. I can do this I tell myself. I'm not as strong but I'm fast and smart.

I begin concentrating solely on blocking. I need time to think of a game plan and to figure out the fighting style of the elf that just joined.

After a few swings I notice that the newest elf is incredibly fast and strong but takes a step forwards each time he's about to make a move, stepping first and then swinging. I use this knowledge to my advantage and can block each strike he brings against me. I push myself forward, charging him and like I hoped, he begins backing away. I get closer and closer to him, causing my arms to shake when I try to hold off his swings.

When I'm close enough, I reach my foot out, causing him to trip and fall backwards.

I sense Belegor behind me and spin around to block his oncoming blow. He's very close to me but has left himself vulnerable. I spin again and elbow him in the ribs. He grunts, doubling over and I drive my foot upwards, kicking him and block the assault of the other elf, who is now back on his feet.

We continue fighting for what seems like an eternity, until I'm dripping sweat and my chest is heaving for air. I'm tiring physically and even mentally from trying to keep ahead of them.

Relentlessly, they continue and something begins to click in my mind; this is a test and they'll continue until I drop. It's to see how much I can take, how long I can hold on.

'You will be pushed to the limit and sometimes past it.' Belegor's words ring in my ears. He'd warned me this would happen.

About the time I'm realizing this Belgor starts taunting me.

"You want a break?" he asks.

"Yes," I admit.

"Guess what," he says. "No breaks. I don't give breaks." There is a ruthlessness in his eyes as he continues his attacks.

"You asked if I wanted one, not if I needed one," I reply. I feel a devilish smile find its way to my face, one that I haven't worn since being in the Haradwaith.

I laugh as Belegor and the other elf's eyebrows raise in surprise. Or is it intimidation?

More hours pass and my whole body feels numb. I can't imagine how sore I'll be tomorrow.

"Come on, Narloth, everyone has a breaking point. Give up already," Belegor says.

I shake my head stubbornly and continue to fend off their advances. Giving up now would be so easy but I've worked so hard and I know that if orcs are in my future they won't stop their onslaught on my account. It's difficult and unfair but that is life, that is reality. I don't expect them to stop…but they shouldn't expect me to either.

"You first!" I yell, gritting my teeth.

When the sun starts to set we're still at it. I have no idea how I've managed to continue for so long. Perhaps my pride will not allow me to falter or quit.

I will prove myself and I will become a guard, even if it means we continue for days I think resolutely.

"That's enough," Belegor says, glancing at the horizon.

I drop to the ground, almost not on my own accord. My body is shaking from exhaustion and as I glance at my attackers I notice they're breathing hard.

All of us sit down, trying to gather our breath. I smile a little, glad I'm not the only one tired from the skirmish.

I glance at the elf that joined us and he explains that he is a fellow guard and that he's impressed by my skill and determination. I compliment him on his own skills. He had been so strong and fast. After he catches his breath he says his farewells and leaves. I forgot to ask him his name.

"Is this how training normally starts?" I ask.

"No, but you've been placed by Lord Elrond in a special division to be trained for war."

"War?" I sputter.

Belegor nods. "He never said why but told me to make sure you got the best training. Glorfindel will mentor you tomorrow in archery."

I remain silent, trying to slow my breathing and not concentrate on the fact that Lord Elrond wants me trained for battle. He knows about the prophecy and I know he can occasionally see the future. Has he seen war in mine? And why?

"I hope you realize that your training isn't going to get easier," he says, stirring me from my thoughts. "The type of training you will receive will prepare you to be far more skilled than a normal guard. It's a privilege and very few women have been chosen."

"I hope I can handle it," I admit. After today I was dancing with the thought that maybe I wouldn't be able to make it through everything they threw at me.

"After what I witnessed today, I think you can," he says. "You're going to have to bring that same determination with you everyday if you want to get through it though."

He hesitates a moment and then says, "And there will most likely be other things for **you** to deal with as well."

"Like what?"

"Your comrades may be wary and unkind towards you for a while," he says.

"Why?" I ask.

He looks at me like it should be obvious and then it begins to dawn on me.

"You have the blood of the Haradrim coursing through your veins and many are still under the impression that you somehow led the wargs in. I hope you understand how suspicious it sounds."

I stare at him incredulously. My race, my heritage is all anyone seems to see lately.

Belegor sighs, rubbing his head. "They trust Lord Elrond's judgment," he explains. "But many don't believe that the wargs managed to cross the border with no one noticing without someone aiding them. The fact that you were able to escape them unharmed, despite the fact that you were on foot is adding to their suspicion and now you want to join the guard. It just seems like the actions of a spy, like someone who wants to get on the inside."

"Oh," I murmur, understanding better now. I wish I knew how they'd gotten in. I'd had no nightmares since but there was a distant feeling of darkness at the edge of my mind, as if something were drawing near, getting closer. Better for Imladris to believe I'd let the wargs in instead of Sauron. I can't imagine the kind of panic that would cause.

"What did you tell Lord Elrond about me?"

He grins a little. "I told him that you were small but fierce and swift."

I laugh under my breath a little. I was certainly small but I didn't feel fierce and swift.

"Were you trained for war?" I ask, curious to know he'd went through what I was.

He nods and turns to me seriously. "You're doing well. I think you'll be sent out on duty soon."

"How soon," I question, hoping that I'll be ready.

"The duration of your training depends entirely upon you," he replies.

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"What did they say?" I ask Rhovan excitedly.

"I start training tomorrow," he says, smirking proudly.

"I am glad to hear it," I say, chuckling at his smirk. I have a feeling he won't be wearing it for long on the practice field but I'm overjoyed that we'll get to be in training together, even if it's in different divisions.

"Will you be there?" he asks.

"Yes, I get to train with Glorfindel tomorrow…that is if I'm able to walk. After practicing today I'm not sure I'll be able to move at all."

"Why are they being so hard on you?" he asks.

"Lord Elrond requested that I be trained for war," I explain.

He looks up at me in shock. "Why? Is that what you want?"

"Certainly not! That's the last thing I want to take part in. As to the why, I've been asking myself the same question."

He's silent for a moment and then he crosses his arms across his chest and dons his smirk again.

"Think I'll get to beat you on the field in front of everyone?" He asks, teasing me.

I giggle. Nothing keeps Rhovan serious for long. He has a knack for making people laugh and smile. I suspect that's partly why Erebwen likes him so much.

"Only if I** let** you win," I say, wearing a smirk of my own.

"I suppose it would be unwise to cross the elleth who escaped the wargs," he says, with mock trepidation.

"Mmm," I say.

Rhovan looks at me seriously with that brotherly look he gets when I'm troubled.

"Scary?" he says.

"You have no idea," I reply, shaking my head with a shudder. "I can't believe I'm alive."

"That's how most of Imladris feels too," he says. "How are you taking their whispers?"

"It's annoying," I admit. "My neighbors keep glaring at me and gossiping as if I can't hear them."

"Any one who knows you knows you'd never betray Imladris," he says adamantly.

"But they don't know me," I say with a little laugh. "Besides, I've never seen them so riled up before. It's actually kind of funny. They cluck about like a bunch of hens."

Rhovan shakes his head, grinning. "You're a disturber of the peace now," he says, smirking.

"Always have been, always will be."

"How Haradrim of you," he says.

"Yes, let's continue to blame all my flaws on my heritage," I say, chuckling.

"Flaws? Why, I didn't know you had any," he retorts sarcastically.

"Let's not go there," I say. "Have you heard from Erebwen?"

"No," he says, turning sullen and downcast.

"Give it some time. She needs to sort things out."

"I know," he says.

**Happy Friday everyone. Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please don't forget to review!**


	10. A Game of Swords

_**A Rose Trapped Inside a Fist**_

**Disclaimer:** I disclaim owning anything of the Lord of the Rings trilogy or The Hobbit. I only own my own characters brought forth from my own wild imagination (Narloth, Erebwen, Rhovan, Belegor, Tindir, Dagorast and Ashare).

**Chapter 10: A GAME OF SWORDS**

Each training session was more gruesome and difficult than the last. I thought it would be a small comfort to know I wasn't going through it alone but I was wrong. Rhovan had passed me by one day, his hair disheveled, a bloody nose, and a black eye.

"What happened?" I asked.

"I was mistaken for a punching bag. Don't worry, I'm getting used to it," he said, grimacing. Hand to hand combat was his weakness, like mine was archery.

Neither of us realized how taxing and tough training would be and after I witnessed Rhovan getting pummeled into the ground each time his group practiced hand to hand I'd resolved to help him practice.

To add to things, many of those in my group hadn't said a kind word towards me. Like Belegor had warned, they were wary and didn't trust me. One had asked me after I won a hand to hand combat session if I'd ever been mistaken for a man. I'd said no and asked if he'd ever been mistaken for one. He hadn't said a word to me after that.

Another had confronted me about beating up Morlyg. His opinion was that I should have been punished for such actions. That I had used unnecessary force. I told him that Morlyg had hurt my best friend and I'd used everything I had.

They never bothered me with anything but words and I wasn't the thin-skinned type. I'd never worried about being in a group with them until I was told we would be going on patrol together. Tonight.

Could I trust them to have my back in battle?

But that wasn't my biggest worry. I still had many doubts about killing orcs. And in order to say my oath, I had to prove I could do this, that I could handle it. If I was unable I would not only risk my chance at becoming a guard, but I'd also risk all of Imladris believing I was a spy. Not to mention that Belegor would tear me a new one, especially after putting in a good word for me.

I remember my father saying, 'A man who wouldn't die for something wasn't fit to live.' But was the same person fit to live if they killed for their own gain? Just to become a guard?

I sigh and head to where our group is meeting for patrol. I'm nervous. Afraid. I braid my dark brown hair to keep myself busy, to keep my hands from shaking. I glance down at Firefrost. I've sparred many times and it's never shown it's power.

I shake my head in frustration. If I can't trust those in my group or my blade, what can I trust? My conscience rings in a clear voice, 'you must trust yourself.' Yes, I must trust myself. I hope that I have enough skill to fight. To not die. I shudder and push that thought away.

When we've all gathered, Belegor leads us to where we'll be scouting for the night. With so many of us sailing West there are few of us to patrol, only seven elves in our group. To my left I notice a familiar face. It's the elf that sparred against me with Belegor. I ask him his name, it's Arvellon. I can tell from his confidence and lack of nerves that he's done this before. He must sense my worry or the rest of the group's and begins explaining what patrol is like. It comforts me to know what to expect- which is usually nothing.

As I glance around, I notice Glorfindel has joined our group and that comforts me too. I had enjoyed practicing archery with him. I'd never seen a better archer, he never missed. My archery skills could definitely improve, despite him mentoring me.

When we reach our destination, Belegor directs us on where we're to stand.

The night air is brisk and the wind is laced with the chill of ice. Winter is coming and it will snow soon. I glance upwards, taking in the stars. The night sky is clear, the stars and moon casting shadows on the ground. The stars twinkle and the beauty calms me down. I hear movement to my right and see a raccoon nearby. Overhead, an owl glides past, its flapping wings silent as it explores the night. I relax. If the animals are out and unafraid there's nothing to fear.

Hours pass and nothing happens. My muscles begin to feel stiff and I'm getting bored. Then a prickling sensation causes the hair on my neck to stand on end. The animals have left and it's quiet, too quiet. A darkness creeps its way into my mind and I sense evil. I strain my eyes and ears and pick up footsteps, lots of footsteps. All the fear that had left me rushes back. I look around wondering if there are enough of us and notice Belegor and Glorfindel gesturing everyone towards them. I make my way over to them. We have a better chance of defeating them huddled together than spread out.

"Draw your swords," Glorfindel commands. He and Belegor have their bows knocked with arrows. "Your job is to clean up whatever escapes our arrows."

I bring Firefrost out of its sheath.

"Don't fail me now," I whisper to it.

I see Belegor send one of our group for help. I hope he finds it and it arrives quickly. We were going to need it based on the number of footfalls I hear.

Arvellon stands next to me and gives me an encouraging nod. I return the gesture- not that he needs encouragement. He looks like an immovable rock, strong and sturdy. Meanwhile, I try to slow my panicked breathing, hoping no one notices my fear.

When the first orcs come into view I feel frozen, me feet attached to the ground. A tremor runs down my spine and I watch as arrows whiz past and they begin to fall. I try to count them, to see how outnumbered we are but there are too many and they're moving too quickly. The orcs that manage to escape arrows head our way and I feel myself shaking. This was it. I can't look like a spy I remind myself. I have to do this.

I watch as an orc rushes toward me, his mouth curving into a vicious smile. I raise Naurniss and the blade seems to pulse with heat as though it senses battle. The orc is nearly upon me when I hear something behind me and suddenly Rhovan appears by my side and with no hesitation he charges forward, cutting down orcs. I watch him for a moment, surprised and envious of his bravery. When I turn back I see Arvellon slashing the throat of the orc in front of me, the one I'd turned away from. I'd glanced back for only a second and it almost cost me my life. I yell out a thanks to him and silently scold myself for not paying attention.

I notice an orc coming up behind Rhovan and that's when my fear leaves me. Something else awakens and I don't think, I just act. My feet propel me forward almost on their own accord and I raise Firefrost. Before I can deliver my swing an arrow makes its way into the orc's skull and it falls. I glance over to see who shot it but Belegor and Glorfindel are weaving all around.

Nearby, another orc tries to take a slash at me and I quickly dodge. Firefrost seems to pulse in my hand again and we're suddenly connected, linked somehow and I know every move the orc is going to make. Left, right, up, down, I see it coming. I counter his swings easily but an arrow slides into his chest and he falls. At this rate, I may never have to kill any orcs. I smile down at Firefrost. I've discovered its power and it feels like cheating. I love it.

Arrows whiz by me and I look for the nearest orc. There are plenty to choose from but one catches my eye. A hulking figure sparring with Arvellon who looks like he's already been injured. I run towards him, to help. I hear a groan of pain and see him clutch his chest. There's a dagger protruding from it and I stop in my tracks. Arvellon's face is pale and he collapses to the ground. Amidst all the turmoil my ears center in on his heartbeat. I begin running again as I hear it slow and then it stops. He's dead. Shock and fear clutch my heart but there is no time to grieve as the orc standing over him turns my way. His blade is dark with blood, Arvellon's blood. Anger wells up inside me and I cast my fear away and charge forward, seeking revenge. The orc grins and when I reach him our blades connect and once again Firefrost shows me his every move. After blocking a couple of his blows I see an opening. I muster all my strength, draw back, and swing. Firefrost connects with the side of the orc's neck, hard and deep. The orc gives a horrible, sickening shriek that makes my skin crawl. Even so it tries to move toward me. I draw back and hit again. Its hands clutch at its throat and its knees give way. My next swing results in decapitation. Its body hit's the ground, its eyes look up at me as though it can't believe what just happened. That makes two of us.

My first kill.

Anger has replaced my fear and as more orcs rush toward me, Firefrost and I greet them with pleasure. I stab the nearest one in the abdomen and when he continues to attack I slash his throat. Blood spatters my face and I search for my next victim. I kill several more and then glance around looking for others but the battle is over. I let out a sigh when I spot Rhovan but then my body goes rigid when I see Arvellon. Several elves are picking him up to take him back. Does he have a family? Kids? How old was he? The questions fill my mind but no answers come. I barely knew him.

I feel my rage returning. He had been taken so cruelly and without warning. I feel guilty for not being able to save him. I should've done something, helped somehow. I feel like I should have remorse for killing, for taking lives myself, but I don't. Perhaps something inside me thirsts for this. For a fight. I glance down at Firefrost, taking in how the metal gleamed in the moonlight, how the pale steel was mingled and soaked in blood. Maybe we both thirsted for this.

Belegor signals for everyone to follow him and I fall in step with Rhovan, wiping Firefrost clean and returning it to its sheathe. When I glance up at him I see him squeeze his eyes shut and frown.

"Are you alright?" I ask stupidly. Of course he isn't okay.

He straightens and his familiar smirk returns, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

"I've been so arrogant," he says. "I thought I'd come out of my first battle without a scratch."

I can tell he's hiding his true feelings by making a joke but I don't press him about it. He lifts the sleeve of his shirt up and I see a small gash. Nothing serious.

"It wasn't what I expected," I say.

He looks at me curiously.

"I've never felt so…alive," I say, remembering the adrenaline rush.

"You're never more alive than in battle," someone near us agrees.

"Never more dead after," whispers one of the elves carrying Arvellon.

Dread and sorrow fill my heart and I look down at the ground. That could be me they're carrying. Or Rhovan. This isn't the practice field. It's not a game, or a test, it's real. These patrols were something I'd have to deal with as a guard. The cost was high but I had to do it. My dad's voice rings in my head, 'experience is a brutal teacher, but you learn.'

Our group is silent as we make our way back and when we reach Imladris, Glorfindel and those carrying Arvellon report tonight's events to Lord Elrond.

Belegor addresses the rest of us and says, "being challenged in life is inevitable, being defeated is optional. As guards we are constantly challenged to improve, to fight, to protect. Everyone here fought well today. Let's take a moment of silence in honor of Arvellon who protected his home, our home with his life. Imladris will remember the bravery and sacrifice of him forever."

We are all silent and I can hear a few of the others crying. As I stand in the small crowd I think of Belegor's words. I disagree with him- defeat isn't just an option, it was a guarantee. The grave was always waiting, ever hungry.

I begin to feel rage again. He had saved me; he didn't deserve to die. I should have saved him, should have been watching out for him. Why was life so unfair to those who deserved fairness the most?

Later as I head home I feel unnerved. I shed blood, took lives, and I feel no remorse. I try to make myself feel something- regret, sadness, guilt, something. But I feel nothing. And that scares me.

I kneel before Lord Elrond and say the words I've memorized. My oath.

"I, Narloth, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend Imladris against all enemies, both foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of Lord Elrond and the orders of those appointed over me."

"And why do you wish to be a guard?" he asks, brow furrowed.

The question catches me off guard and my first reaction is to say I joined the guard because of the prophecy, because I needed the experience. That's why I joined but it's not why I want to become a guard. Watching Arvellon die woke up something inside me. Whether it was anger or bravery, I can't say. I just know protecting my friends and home is worth fighting for. Even dying for. Stopping the evil that plagued this land was now my mission.

I look Lord Elrond in the eye, now confident of my answer and say, "I wish to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to deny fear the power to influence my decisions, and because I no longer want to stand idly by. This is my home, the people my family, and I wish to defend them."

He studies me for a moment, an unreadable expression crossing his face.

"I have no doubt that you will. You have shown true loyalty and I accept your oath."

"It's an honor my Lord."

"I hope your sword continues to help you against your enemies in battle."

I glance up at him, startled. How does he know?

"You always seem so surprised," he says, chuckling. "I read too, you know."

I laugh a little, glancing at Naurniss. How much did he know?

"Did my Father ever explain how he acquired it? My family isn't related to Gwindor."

He holds his hand out, reaching for the blade. I pass it over almost hesitant. The sword had been by my side for months and after our first battle, our first kill, I was attached to it now. Lord Elrond seems to notice and smiles. He draws the blade from its sheath and seems to inspect it.

"When Gwindor died in battle it was left with no owner and being very plain is became lost, indistinguishable, from the other plain swords on the battlefield. Your father found it on a trip and picked it up thinking it would be a good sword for you one day."

"I think he was right," I say, thinking of how much it had helped me. "I wonder why he never told me of its abilities and I remember thinking it was strange that he called it Firefrost, that he used common tongue."

"He knew you would find out some day," he says. "The time wasn't right for him to tell you."

"Bit of a shock to find out in the middle of an orc attack," I say.

He laughs, handing my sword back. "Would you have believed it if someone had told you?"

"No," I admit, smiling.

He shakes his head and I pause, staring at him. How much does he know about the prophecy, about my dreams? I have so many questions, so many unanswered thoughts clouding my mind.

He reads the seriousness in my face and curiosity in my eyes and lets out a sigh.

"I know you have questions. But I'm afraid my knowledge concerning anything you wish to know has reached its limit. I have no answers for you."

"But you've seen things, haven't you? Pieces of the future?"

"I have seen much and yet little. The meaning of what I have seen is uncertain and would only cloud your thoughts with more questions," he says.

I look at my feet in disappointment.

"Don't be so eager to learn every secret, it may just change your entire life- and not always in a good way."

I nod but I feel like he's hiding something. What is he not telling me and why?

I visit Erebwen and Rhovan later. They've begun spending time with each other again and things seem to be going well. Really well.

When I find them they are holding hands and laughing.

They notice the seriousness of my face and frown.

"What's wrong?"

I shake my head, "it's nothing."

They eye me suspiciously, looking like relentless parents who won't give up until they hear the truth. I sigh. I am too tired and my mind too full of questions and doubts to hold it in. I glance at Rhovan and he raises an eyebrow expectantly.

"Do you feel remorse for killing the orcs?"

His head shoots up but he doesn't look surprised, as if he knew what had been bothering me. Erebwen looks back and forth at us, her face grim and serious now.

"Yes," he finally says.

Heat rushes to my eyes but I force the fear and the tears back, even as more questions fill my mind. Why did I feel nothing, nothing but anger? I'd been so afraid to take lives and now that I had, I felt nothing. Was I really so cold? So cruel?

I look back up at them and pray and beg neither of them ask me the same question I'd asked Rhovan. But I can see the curiosity in their eyes, making its way to their mouths, ready to roll off their lips.

I spring from the seat of the couch, bursting through the door before their words crush me. I chase every question and thought from my mind and run. I sprint until I can go no further, until my sides heave and ache.

I brace myself against the nearest tree, my heart pounding. I look behind me, making sure no one has followed and slide down into the grass. I shut my eyes and try to calm down. After running so hard, if I cry now, I won't be able to breathe at all. So that's what I focus on, breathing.

When my heart rate slows to a normal pace I open my eyes. I notice that my feet have not lead me to the practice field this time and an odd giggle almost escapes me. I've officially gone mad. I suddenly sense someone nearby and see Belegor making his way down the trunk of a pine. Great- just what I needed.

"What are you running from?" he calls out as his feet reach the ground.

"Nothing. There's nothing out here," I say, confused.

He's silent until he reaches me.

"You don't run like that unless you're running from something."

I get up to leave. I want to be alone and do not want to deal with this right now. He catches my arm and my hand automatically clenches into a fist.

"Narloth," he says, gently stopping me in my tracks.

I glance up at him, giving him a warning glance. He releases my arm.

I stare at him and flashback to the conversation we'd had after the warg attack, when I'd told him I wasn't sure if I could kill.

'But they're orcs,' he'd said.

I remember how cold his voice had turned as if the very word: orc was a bitter taste in his mouth. Did he feel no remorse for killing? Was he like me?

"Saving lives has side effects," he says.

His eyes seem to bore into mine, searching me out. He knows, I can feel it. The doubt, the fear, the same emotions have been held inside him before. Each emotion is there, within his eyes.

He sighs, sitting down on the grass, and I join him.

"How is it affecting you?"

It surprises me that I'm willing to answer him and yet not my friends. Not to mention the fact that he's yelled at me, pushed me to ground, and cut me with his blade. But he knows, he understands.

"All I feel is anger," I reply.

"I felt the same after my first battle, my first kill. Still do."

"You've never felt guilty?'

He shakes his head. "No, just anger and conviction. And when you're full of conviction, violence is inevitable."

I pause, reflecting on his words.

"I just want to protect others- whatever the cost," I finally say. "I don't want to kill but, like you said- it's inevitable. As guards, we chose this."

He nods. "It scares you, doesn't it? Did me too. Thought I was a bad person, that not feeling guilt meant I was cruel. I don't particularly like killing people, but I'm good at it."

I let his words sink in and they lift and fill my heart. I am not alone and I'm not cruel. I'm the same person I always was, just stronger, and called to a new purpose.

He looks over at me seriously, sternly even.

"Don't fall apart," he says and I realize this isn't a request, it's a command. "If you do, the orcs win."

Then he stands up and moments later when I turn around he's vanished like a wisp of smoke.


End file.
